Hardwired
by lipstickletter
Summary: Rebellious virtuoso Jasper is struggling to make it through the holidays. His unnamed band is coming apart; he's alone after a messy breakup. He's just about ready to give in and take over the family company, but  what will happen when he meets Alice?
1. Hardwired

**Summary: **Rebellious virtuoso Jasper is struggling to make it through the holidays. It seems like just about everyone is together and all he wants is to avoid his mother's matchmaking. What will happen when he meets Alice? Spencer Bell and 100 Monkeys songs used.

**Disclaimer: **The songs mentioned are _Ugly Girl _by 100 Monkeys and _Hardwired _by The Stevedores. The plot belongs to me. The characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Happy reading.

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**Hardwired**

I glanced at the mahogany grandfather clock and tapped my foot to the beat of each passing second. I had twenty minutes to get an hour away. I was at my parents' house on the scenic Wilson River Highway in Oregon to wallow in shit-company. Why was I here? Well, my darling sister and I were out of work—and whatever I do—for Christmas break starting tonight. I had plans later and for the rest of the week—including Christmas Day—but my mother begged me to come for dinner so I did, knowing all too well what she had in store, but naively hoping otherwise.

A little background: Rosalie was my perfect twin sister. She had recently gotten engaged to the football star from university, Emmett McCarty. This night was a celebration for Rosalie and a reality check for me for I was the disappointment in the family.

I was born and raised well. I am an ideal gentleman to all ladies and treat everyone with respect—so long as they do the same for me. Still, ever since I was little, I was a rebel without a cause. When I was old enough to understand the warped and premeditated life I had, I had found my cause. However, my parents' plan for me was far from what I wanted.

They bribed the university enough to get me in, but I refused to continue the hearty sports craze. I'm a musician. That's all I want to be. My parents refused to see that, so I needed to convince them. Here I am: college dropout with three tattoos and twelve ex-girlfriends—or promising housewife material—watching my sister beam as she looks googly-eyed into her fiancé's face.

Emmett was a cool guy and Rosalie totally understood my shit and need to rebel. My parents were another story. They threatened military school on me so many times that I lost count. My father was a hard-ass and workaholic. He had no connection with me at all and just didn't get me, not that I understood him either. My mother was afraid of him, but taught me well. She was disappointed in my life choices, but knew she raised me well enough that I was at least a polite bastard.

She still tried though. My mother wanted me married and settled by the age of twenty-five and seeing as I had just turned twenty-four a week ago, she was desperate. I had prepared myself for this.

We were all sitting in the living room: Emmett and Rosalie on the love seat, my father in the armchair—_his _armchair, my mother in a chair she brought in from the dining room, and I sat on the piano bench, facing the clock behind my father.

There had been an awkward silence for five minutes or so before I cleared my throat and shifted, daring to speak. "Mom, I have to—" I began, but something stopped me.

There was a knock at the door and my mother's eyes lit up as she looked over at me, instead of the direction of the sound. _Great. _

Good ol' Mamma Whitlock got up and bounded to the door. "Maria, how nice of you to come on such short notice," I heard my mother greet our guest rather loudly. I glanced in their direction and shuddered.

Maria. Maria was an ex-girlfriend of mine. Our families were good friends and in equal standing. Our fathers held the same status at work; our mothers were both housewives. My mother was devastated when I broke it off with her, but Maria fucking cheated on me three times and I knew it all three times, but kept up the act for my mother's sake.

She didn't just cheat on me; she _left. _She left a fucking letter on the counter with a lipstick stain on the seal. The dresser drawers were emptied, the light was left on in the bathroom with her drool-worthy skintight red dress still on the back of the door. Her two-day old engagement ring was enclosed in the envelope.

Thanks, mom, for inviting my ex-fucking-fiancé.

Rosalie immediately looked over to me with a concerned glance. Our twin telepathy was out of whack. She either asked me, _are you okay? _or said something along the lines of, _cool it, asshole. _

Mom came in with Maria on her arm, looking gorgeous as always in a twisted way. She was wearing a skintight Dolce Gabbana dress—don't judge; being twins with a fashionista makes me know this shit. No, not gay, just fashionably aware.

"Everyone, I invited Maria to come join us tonight," my mother said with an anxious grin. "Maria, you know everyone, but this is Rosalie's fiancé, Emmett." They awkwardly exchanged greetings as I stared at her legs.

"Hi, Jasper," her fucking sweet voice cooed. My eyes slid up to meet her gaze of smug victory.

"Hey," I replied evenly, crossing my legs to conceal any hard-on that may also come a 'knocking.

Another awkward silence resumed before my mother offered her a seat and began questioning her apparent successful last few months. I zoned out, waiting for a pause in the conversation to excuse myself.

"And then I made it clear I wasn't taking no for an answer and they were impressed enough to give me the promotion," she continued with a proud grin.

My mother clasped her hands together and opened her mouth to speak as I got up and her intentions were diverted. "Where are you going?" she asked with a stern glare. God, she was going to hate me.

"Bathroom," I replied nonchalantly. My mother nodded once and I avoided my father's gaze as I left the room. Hesitating in the doorway, I glanced over at Rosalie and gave her an apologetic smile. She nodded minutely and looked away from me. I'd call her later.

I did go to the bathroom, going down the hall to the last door on the right, ignoring the professional studio adolescent pictures plastered along the periwinkle walls and shutting the door behind me. I didn't turn on the light, I merely went to the window and unlocked it before lifting up the latch and swinging open the large window. I hopped out the first story window, shutting it silently behind me. Naturally, this wasn't the first time I snuck out of the house.

I sprinted across the acreage of back yard as I called Edward. "Where the hell are you, man?" he yelled into the phone.

"Nice greeting, bud. Hello to you, too," I spat back as I took my keys out of my pocket and mounted my trusty steed: Ducati Diavel (Google image that shit; my baby is gorgeous).

"I'll be there ASAP, keep your panties on," I said and cut off his next remark with the rev of my engine as I hung up and sped off. Two minutes later I felt my phone buzz. My mom knew I was gone. I felt a tinge of regret, but I had a gig in Portland tonight and her inviting my ex-fiancé to dinner was my cue to leave.

I prayed to the good lord that I wouldn't get pulled over after weaving in and out of traffic, and I hadn't, which almost made me want to reconsider the atheist path I had been on… Nah. I hopped off the bike when I got in front of the bar and Peter was standing outside, smoking a cigarette.

"You son of a bitch," he greeted me as I got to the door. He stomped out his cigarette and opened up the door. "Where have you been?"

"Family thing," I replied with a shrug, walking past him. "By the way you owe me fifty bucks. My sister's engaged and it isn't to you," I called over my shoulder. He mumbled incoherent swears under his breath and I grinned, hopping up on stage and slipping back behind the wall.

Edward let out a sigh of relief when he saw me. I held up my hands in surrender. "I know, I know, but I'll explain my adultery later," I teased. "Let's stay together for the children's sake," I added with a fake pout.

Edward clasped a hand on my back and threatened me half heatedly as we went right back on stage where the equipment was already set up along with Peter, who was behind the drum set. I picked up the guitar and Edward took his place behind the keyboard. I stepped up to the mic and tapped it once before speaking.

"How's Portland doing tonight?" I asked with exaggerated enthusiasm. I hated setting up gigs and always did it horribly, but everyone stuck around once they heard the music.

Some considerably drunk man yelled something positive from the back of the bar and I held my fist in the air. "Yeah, hopefully we'll all be as drunk as that guy by the end of the night," I said with a smirk. I got a few chuckles as Peter added a bad joke trademark rim shot. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, I'll be here all night.

"Alright, we're an unnamed band and we're gonna try to play these instruments. Enjoy."

The first chord rang out and I stepped away from the mic, dipping my head as I enjoyed the beginning riff of the song. I milked it a bit, improvising a little, before bringing my head up and letting a chord ring out as I sang the first line.

"She was young, but she liked to act younger than she was," I practically growled out the first few lyrics, closing my eyes as I ground out the next few chords. "She was dumb, but she liked to act more dumb than she was…" Guess where this inspiration came from.

It came from quite a bit of bad relationships from everyone in the band: my shit with Maria and every lying, cheating one after her, Edward's fling with Tanya on his trip to Alaska a few years ago, and Peter's womanizing rendezvous coming back to bite him in the ass. "She'll leave a beautiful corpse."

But now Peter and Charlotte, some blonde he met at the records store last week, were married. Their love of the Pixies and Bono made them inseparable—weird combo, huh? Oh yeah, and Edward had Bella, which was partially my fault, but I was still bitter. I was the only lone wolf in a band that was formed on the basis of many bad relationships with women who lie, cheat, and steal.

I looked out into the audience and saw Bella sitting with her legs crossed to reveal her classic look: converse chucks, jeans, and plaid, complete with Budweiser in her hands. She wolf-whistled and I rolled my eyes.

I met Bella in college before I dropped out. She was an English major and graduated a year early. I was undecided and only managed to finish my freshman first semester. Still, we kept in touch and had the same internal play list. She was a second sister to me. Long story short, I introduced Edward and Bella and the rest is history.

I stepped away from the mic, my back facing Bella as I ground out the riff toward the end of the song. I glanced to Peter, who was jittery from my interrupting his nicotine fix earlier, but definitely had a kick ass beat. Edward had his head down and never lifted it from the keys. I was the only one who would go up to the mic, the other two refused. I didn't get it.

I turned back to the microphone to finish he last line, "she don't know how to stop." The final chords were played in a blur and I muffled the last one, stepping away from the mic stand to fix any sour tunings. There were a few claps and screams—mostly from tipsy Bella.

I smirked, still concentrating on the strings as I spoke through the microphone. "Thank you, complete stranger," I said sarcastically and she giggled. "Can we all clap for Bella at least? She's doing a fine job as groupie," I addressed the audience, moving back to give her a round of applause. Bella stuck her tongue out at me, but did get up and bow to those who were drunk enough to play Jasper Says.

Acoustic guitar brought us into the next song. "I got this chip on my shoulder, I stole off the old block, and it's more of a boulder and it weighs much more than this world. And I—can't hold her, no more," I milked the last two lyrics before the song picked up and got—well, funky.

Edward jammed on electric gee-tar, Peter on drums, I hopped on over to keyboard and vocals. "There's too much to know too quickly and you're too slow," I repeated over and over, above Edward's riff, closing my eyes and fidgeting in place as the anticipation grew.

"You're just too slow," I growled before the next line erupted and Edward took the solo line, the bass exploding into a kick ass alternative mess before it died off too soon.

"Now that you figured it out, don't you miss the puzzlement, befuddled as you were? The answers to your questions weren't nearly as obscure as you thought they would be," I sang over the light mellow solo Edward picked up.

"And now you're bored because the wonderment's gone and you're starting to forget what you were wonderin' about all along. Well, well, well, well, well, regardless," I built up to the last line, climbing the scale as I finally opened my eyes into the audience. Bella was googly eyed for Edward, something I had seen just an hour ago when Rosalie looked at Emmett in my parents' living room.

Beside Bella was a new guest, one whose cobalt eyes were fixed on mine and I couldn't look away.

"Wonderland's never been uh-anything," I sang shakily, my eyes burning for the relief of a blink or two, but she wouldn't allow it.

"Wonderland's never been uh-anything," I didn't see the rest of her body, the rest of her face, her hair, her skintight dress, her smile, her blush—just her eyes.

"Wonderland's never been uh-anything, but a handful of sand," I paused, Edward glancing at me from the edge of my peripheral vision in anticipation for the final chord. It felt like hours. It was one of those moments where you step outside of yourself to watch what the hell your body is doing and wondering why the fuck you look like such a moron.

Bella wolf-whistled and I finally tore my eyes from the girl to sing the final three words, "at the Oasis."

Applause resumed and I glanced in the woman's direction, her eyes were out of sight—thank the lord. My eyes were free to roam: designer jeans, designer blouse, designer shoes, and spoilt air that reeked of a Breakfast at Tiffany's marathon. Nice try, Jasper.

Then I saw her pearly whites as she giggled with an old friend, who just happened to be sitting next to her, who also just happened to be Bella. Score.

"You were here a half hour late! Off. The. Stage," the bar manager called in an aggravated whisper from stage left. I rolled my eyes and turned around to wave at Peter and grab his attention, as he was too involved with playing the air drums.

"Yo, Pete!" I yelled, tossing a guitar pick at his temple. That got his attention. He stumbled to his feet, the freaking goofball, and grabbed his beer from the stand before joining us backstage. Edward already packed up the guitar and bass as I came back with the piano.

"Before you say anything," I immediately cut off the exaggerated complaints Edward had come up with. He was already prepared for it, too, with his arms crossed, topped with a scowl. Oh, Eddie boy, you could never be mad at me. "I got stuck at my parents'. Would've left sooner if my mom hadn't invited cheating fiancé princess over."

Edward's anger immediately fell. "Maria?" he asked and I nodded, crossing the room to put the keyboard away. "Shit, man, I'm sorry." He followed me out to Peter's van right outside the heavy metal doors. He jumped in front of me to open up the back doors and helped me slide it in.

"I'm definitely looking for an out when it comes to this family-Christmas-shit," I grumbled, stacking the other cases beside the keyboard and sitting in the trunk. I took off my leather jacket and threw it somewhere behind me as I noticed Edward's hesitation. "Are we still—oh no, man, come on, what happened to distracting my parents at the Annual Whitlock Prude Party?"

"I hate to add insult to injury, but Bella kind of—sort of," he paused, looking down at his feet as the door burst open and Peter stumbled to the truck with half empty beer in hand. "I'm going to Washington for Christmas Day… y'know, to meet Bella's dad?"

"That's not insult to injury; that's injury to injury," I groaned, lying back in the truck as Peter collapsed in the passenger seat in front of me. I closed my eyes as Edward began apologizing, but I didn't need that shit. I was happy for him, I was. Hell, I set up the two of them, but everyone was moving ahead except me.

… Peter was still drunk off his ass as always.

"Can I borrow your phone to call Charlotte and let her know of his, er, condition?" Edward asked after a pause. I didn't look up, but merely handed him my phone and he ignored the polite reply rule. Whatever.

I sat up angrily and looked over to see Bella, coming from the back door of the bar, go straight to the passenger seat to knock on the window as Peter practically foamed at the mouth. Everyone laugh at our drunken friend. This band was going nowhere and my Christmas break was ruined.

I'm a professional pessimist.

"Nice tattoo."

"Holy shit," I jumped at the voice from right beside me. I turned and it was mystery girl, the one with the eyes, remember? She was leaning against the truck as Edward walked around to the front to either greet Bella or make sure Peter was still alive. How the hell did she get here without me noticing? Then again, I was in the middle of my internal Eeyore.

I got a better look at her. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, her eyes were a bit too large for her face, but looked more like a doe's innocent eyes—god I sound like a moron. She bit her bottom lip in concentration, furrowing her brow. Her hair was a chopped pixie cut, curled at the tips from a long day.

I followed her gaze to my bicep. "Uh, thanks."

"What does it mean?" she asked, legs tucked underneath her as she hopped into the back of the truck beside me as if I invited her—not that I minded.

"Uh—it's Latin for 'The soul that can speak through the eyes, can also kiss with a gaze,'" I mused, admiring the dips of cursive and not really thinking about the lovely lady beside me. "It's an old—"

"Gustavo Bastilda, or Bécquer quote," she recognized with a smile, our eyes meeting again. Her gaze was appreciative, admiring. Mine was whipped.

"Jasper," I introduced, blinking away the trance.

"Alice," she replied with an innocently devilish smile. Was it odd I was fantasizing right now? No, you won't get a front row seat to my fantasies, pervert, but if you saw this girl, you'd have the same thoughts...

"Great job, boys, but who is ready to celebrate?" Bella asked as she climbed over the front row of seats to join mystery girl and I in the back.

"Where are we going?" Alice asked and I chuckled at her naivety.

"Our apartment, like always," I said with a classic eye roll. Bella stuck her tongue out at me and I mimicked her. "Let me get my bike. Will you be okay taking Pete home?" I called to Edward, who was already in the driver's seat, in a post make out haze. I shuddered, thankful I had missed that greeting.

He nodded wordlessly and I hopped out of the back, mocking a salute and dipping my imaginary hat before heading to the front of the bar to ride my bike back to the apartment.

Edward was ditching me on the Whitlock Christmas Party Disaster, but maybe Miss. Mystery with the captivating gaze, fashion sense, and intelligence would get me out of a set-up courtesy of Mama Whitlock… Did I just say captivating?

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**A/N: **Like/Hate? Leave it in a review and I'll continue writing this puppy. :) Thanks for reading.


	2. Advice

**A/N: **Thank you all for the awesome feedback! Fourteen reviews is the most I have ever gotten for one chapter of any story! I'm glad you all enjoy Jasper' snarkiness like me. :) Hopefully you like chapter two and keep reading!

**Disclaimer: **The song mentioned is _Advice (pilgrim) _by The Stevedores The plot belongs to me. The characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Happy reading.

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**Advice (pilgrim)**

"How _dare_ you sneak out of the house without saying anything!"

Well, that's sneaking out, mamma.

"Maria was nice enough to stop by and perhaps put what happened between you two behind her, but you just couldn't have that, right?"

You'd love that wouldn't you.

"And your sister! She's engaged, Jasper, do you realize how you walked away from _her _night too?"

You made it _Maria's_ night.

The front door opened as the answering machine still blared. All chatter suddenly disappeared, but I refused to turn around from the closet. When we invite people over, Edward and I always come separately so one of us can shove everything dirty into the closet—and not that kind of dirty, like laundry and shit. Bella knew better, but never said anything about our always-locked closet. Still, Edward got pissed if I didn't keep at it.

"There's no use talking to you about this over the phone," she sounded defeated, although I knew otherwise. "You're still invited for Christmas and I hope you reconsider and show your family some respect." Or—what my mom was actually trying to say—show my ex-fiancé the engagement ring that she gave back to me, still kept in my dresser drawer under some mismatched socks.

"END OF NEW MESSAGES."

There was silence for a few seconds as I kicked the last bit of crap in the closet and shut the door behind me. I looked up and Edward and Bella were walking into the kitchen. Miss. Alice was staring at me, but not in a disproving way, not in a sympathetic 'I-feel-sorry-for-you' stare… It was curious and—analytical.

"Still sneaking out of the house?" Bella called from the other room, causing our gaze to be broken.

"Yep," I replied, crossing the room to open Peter's old bedroom door, which was now the music room for all of my babies. I pulled out ol' faithful (also known as my first guitar) and shut the door behind me, walking back to the living room to see Alice was looking around the apartment with those big doe eyes of hers.

"Still haven't changed your phone number?" Bella continued, mocking me. Some background: every time my mom called, I would threaten to change our number.

"You're funny," I spat back. I held the neck of the guitar in one hand as I pulled up a cushioned worn-down armchair with the other. I cleared my throat and Alice turned. I offered her the seat. She stared some more. I tilted my head, waiting. One corner of her lips tugged up, in a sort-of 'thank you', and she took the seat. Hmm, that was weird.

I sat back on the couch, tucking the instrument under my arm and sliding my hand up the fret board soothingly, not strumming or plucking anything, just feeling the relief of the steel strings against my calloused fingertips.

"You play the keyboard, guitar, and you sing," Alice interrupted my therapy session and I glanced up to meet her wide eyes. I nodded slightly before leaving her trance. "Is that all?" she asked.

"Not exactly," I replied, keeping some mystery of my own. I smirked at my childish act, but continued anyway. I was used to playing the mystery role with the ladies, but having a girl—nay, _woman—_be the mysterious one was throwing me off my game.

You have to step back and put yourself in my shoes. I have only dated malicious bloodthirsty—or perhaps _ego-thirsty_ is a better phrase—women: Maria being the epitome of vain malevolence. I'm used to interior motives, lies, and facades and I would like to think of myself as a psychologist in a way. I can weed out the bitches from the ever-so-rare all around good girls. It's a gift.

Now I don't use women, but I do play a bit of a game with them to decipher what the fuck is going on in their pretty little heads. This doesn't work when the girl is playing a game of her own and mocking me. It's like when a BAU agent goes to crack the serial killer, but they get distracted because the killer is trying to learn more about the agent and keep them away from the real case.

All right, I exaggerate, but just keep this all in mind and don't call me an asshole. There is an explanation for my madness. Every woman has a motive and don't deny it.

"What else?" she continued to press, tucking her denim-clad legs underneath her as she leaned toward me, propping her elbow up on the arm of the chair to get comfortable. She was at the edge of her seat like an excited kid looking for her grandfather to tell her a good 'when I was your age' story. Not that I was the grandfather and—you get the fucking picture.

Thankfully Edward saved me.

"You want anything to drink, Jasper?" he called from the other room as I heard the cabinets' hinges squeak in protest as they open and shut noisily.

"Coffee."

"Black?"

"You read my mind."

"Coffee turns your teeth yellow," Alice noted with a joking disproving look. I focused back on the strings, grasping a new plucking pattern I had been struggling with for a while.

"Are you a dentist?" I joked right back. She smiled and looked down into her lap, shaking her head, but not correcting me. Hmm, still up to the mystery game. All right, fine. Well there were two possibilities for Alice's coming to our show tonight.

The first was this was a set-up. Bella had always felt—_sympathetic _(god, I hate that word) toward me ever since Maria left. She saw it coming—who didn't?—and I think she felt guilty that she didn't warn me of it. If she _had _warned me, I probably would've called her a couple four letter words and told her to fuck off. She did the right thing, but these set-ups sucked.

They were always girls who she met through a friend or once in high school and happened to fall into contact with again, but knew nothing about. Lauren Mallory, for fucking example, was head cheerleader in high school, but was in the same group of friends as Bella. The two met through an old alumni thing on Facebook and she seemed decent enough for Jasper, I guess.

She still sends me threatening messages from an empty account with the alias 'Mauren Lallory.' Alright, she's not that stupid, but she might as well have made the name just that. Who else would message me with, 'you're a fucking asshole for dumping Lauren'? Clever, Ms. Mallory, you are quite clever.

The second reason for Alice's unexpected appearance this evening was what made more sense, of course it could be a combination of the two; I wouldn't put it past Bella to set me up with someone who lives with her.

"You're Bella's new roommate, aren't you?" It finally clicked.

Bella had been living with her bitch-of-a-roommate Jessica Stanley since before I met her. When Jessica got engaged to cheating womanizer—though he's as dorky as Steve Urkel-Mike Newton, she packed up and left without any help with the rent or any real notice. Bella was pissed, but definitely not surprised. Last I heard, Bella put an ad in the paper and Edward was trying to contact old friends from college to see if anyone was interested. More so that Edward could make sure that whoever it was wasn't just some pervert from Craig's List.

Last I heard… Hmm, that was probably a year ago? Right around the time that Maria left. I guess I grew uninterested in Bella's roomie search—and rightly so.

"Not really 'new,'" Alice began to get technical, but shifted uncomfortably and rephrased. "Yeah, I guess… Edward's an old family friend and mentioned the apartment when my—uh, previous living arrangements kind of fell through." Well that was a heavy-weighted statement. She was good at keeping people interested.

No, damn it. She was using my material. _I _was the mysterious, keep-you-wanting-more guy! Fuck…

Still, curiosity got to me; it seemed Alice had a bit more experience at the anonymity act than I had given her credit for. What really bothered me—and somewhat impressed me—was her nonchalance, as if she didn't mean for this to be an act. I'm not paranoid, I swear.

I opened my mouth to ask more, but Edward and Bella came in from the kitchen. Bella sat next to me, handing me my coffee and Edward sat in the other armchair.

"You're a saint," I told Bella with a grateful smile as I let my guitar fall in my lap and I cradled the coffee with my life. She rolled her eyes before addressing Alice.

"Normally we prep him with people skills, but how did he hold up?" she always pretended like I was a jackass—I mean some of the time I am and I suck at small talk, but there is no need to be snippy, Miss. Swan.

And I told her that: "There is no need to be snippy, Miss. Swan." She stuck her tongue out at me as I took another gulp of the bitter beverage.

Alice smirked and shook her head. "Small talk's not his forte, but he was polite," she defended me. I nodded in her direction and took another mouthful of the coffee.

"What'd you think about these two on stage tonight?" she continued to talk like we weren't here. I furrowed my brow and looked up at Edward in protest. He was too whipped to restrain his girlfriend. Ugh. I made some grunt or noise of objection.

"Wait, you're supposed to talk about this when we're not here. Why are you talking about us like we aren't here?" I interjected franticly.

"It was cool. Do you play at that bar all the time or do you go to different venues?" Alice ignored my panic and continued to—somewhat encourage our music. 'Cool' is good, right? She didn't say 'rancid' or 'shitty'. 'Cool' is definitely good in my book.

"Mostly that bar and one or two others downtown. There aren't a lot of places that will let an unnamed band jam," Edward shrugged, and then turned to glare at me. Fuck, what'd I do? "We'd figure out a name if you weren't always late to rehearsal."

"Dude, unfair! You know why I was late tonight," I practically whimpered, pausing in my comeback to take another swig of caffeine. "We'd figure out a name if you weren't so stubborn on your poetic references."

"It's not poetry, it's classical renowned musicians. Mozart's—"

"Don't finish the name, there are ladies present," I interrupted with a smirk. Bella snorted and Alice giggled. Edward groaned and slouched back in the chair, rolling his eyes, before leaning forward to snatch my baby from my lap for his own selfish impulsive musical needs. We'd kiss and make up later.

"Well," Alice began. "Once you figure out your name, I have a couple venues that would probably let you play." … What?

"What?" _What?_ I speak my mind.

"Alice is a party planner," Bella explained offhandedly. "She works with ballrooms mostly, but she added a few bars and nightclubs to rent out." Alice is a party planner? Yeah, I guess I could see her as quite the party animal… That last thought was sarcastic—obviously. Maybe I caught her on an off day.

"A couple of big name agents hang out in a few nightclubs I just rented for an engagement party," Alice added excitedly. What? "I think some of them would definitely be interested." What—no. Definitely not.

"Awesome," Edward said; glancing up to look at me, all the anger from thirty seconds ago was gone. He was looking for approval from his other band mate… I wasn't giving it.

The _last _thing our anonymous band needs is exposure. I love Peter, but I'm embarrassed of his even being in our band. Let alone Edward, who was dragged out of his poetic emo conformity and brought to rock n' roll by little old me.

"Thanks, but uh—no thanks," I said, my voice definitely sounded a lot nicer on the inside than it did when it actually came out. Ugh. Two glares burned holes in my skin while Alice looked hurt and disappointed.

"Jazz, don't be an ass," Bella argued.

"No, it's fine," Alice waved a hand, dismissing my douchey-ness.

"No, it's not fine. What the hell is your problem tonight?" Bella's voice began rising in volume. The only thing worse than a fight with Bella was Edward's verbal kick in the ass following said fight with Bella.

"Look, I'm sorry, really," I addressed this to Alice, ignoring Bella. "I'm just not into some mainstream yuppie changing our music to fit what the radio is playing, you know?" Alice nodded, but I don't think she really got what I was saying. "Really, thank you for the offer, but we have one-third of our band drunk off his ass every night. I doubt we're even in the shape to be molded into some cookie cutter pop mess by some big shot producer."

Bella looked toward Edward for help, but I ignored their mumbling to make sure Alice at least tried to acknowledge my sincerity. The problem with being a jackass ninety-nine percent of the time was the fact that no one understood when I was being genuine. It was like the boy who cried wolf, except the wolf was Bella and she _will _eat me.

Pause. Why did it bother me so much that I hurt Alice? Unpause. I have no answer for you…

"It's okay," Alice assured me, leaning back from her previous kid-listening-to-grandpa position. She stretched her legs out in front of her and looked down at her shoes as her feet swung, seemingly unfazed by the ordeal. Then why was Bella making such a big deal out of this? "The offer still stands if you ever reconsider it," Alice added.

"Thanks." I guess that was the least damage I had done. Normally I'd say something and keep at my opinion, never apologizing, but I felt like I had to make an effort here. Not for the sake of my getting out of the Whitlock Christmas Party, but for Bella's sake.

I abhorred Jessica Stanley—so much so that I use the word 'abhor' only for her. Every time I visited Bella, I would deal with the twenty-questions at the front door by Jess before I was allowed in. Or she'd make me do something ridiculous and I'd argue with her to the point where I forgot why I came to see Bella in the first place.

I want to be able to visit my best friend knowing that it will be as easy as knocking on the door and being let inside without having to play a round of Fear Factor.

… Yeah, sure, _that's _it.

"I'm going to bed," I said, getting up and holding my coffee mug in one hand. I grabbed a pillow off the floor and chucked it at Bella's head. "G'night." I grabbed the guitar from Edward's lap and he stuck his tongue out at me, crossing his arms like a petulant child. I smirked in victory, going to put away ol' faithful.

I crossed the living room, grabbing the phone on my way to the music room. I hung up the guitar on one of the wall stands and shut the door before crossing the hall to my bedroom. I shut the door behind me and immediately started dialing Rosalie's number.

"It's one in the morning, Jasper," Rosalie answered, though sounding annoyed about what time it was, she didn't seem groggy and answered on the first ring. She hadn't been sleeping; she'd been waiting for my call.

"I know, I'm sorry," I began, sitting at the edge of my bed and looking around my cluttered room at nothing in particular, but trying to think of something to say.

Piles of sheet music, wrinkled from abuse and indecisive creativity, lined the windowsill. Laundry was helping the floor win a game of hide-and-go-seek. My dresser drawers were half open or falling apart, clothes bursting from the cracks in the wood. Broken lamp on top of the dresser, hundreds of unfinished notebooks scattered on every surface, ceiling fan caked with dust… Ironically, my bed was made in the mess of a room; I couldn't leave the house with an unmade bed.

"What else?" Rosalie grew impatient. I sighed, flopping back onto the bed and closing my eyes. I pinched the bridge of my nose with my thumb and pointer finger.

"Did I say 'congratulations'?" I asked, feebly.

"Yes, you did," her voice seemed to lighten at the compliment. Of course when we talk about her, she would forgive me for mass murder.

Still, I loved my twin sister and she was getting married—what she always wanted. A 'congratulations' was definitely in order, especially when she chose Emmett and not the douche Royce King, who was the male version of Maria, I guess you could say. He was a womanizer, manipulated Rose, got her paranoid and unhealthily self-conscious to the point where… Well, you can imagine.

Emmett met her a few years later and the two had been inseparable—literally. I loved Emmett like the brother I never had. He warmed up to me pretty quick, took my sarcasm and attitude well, and he was a nasty wrestling partner. He was a childish dork who watched Saturday morning cartoons and played Candy Land in the privacy of his own home. He would make a pretty awesome dad, which is all Rosalie truly wanted.

So they're getting married in a few months. They would have gotten married sooner if Rosalie didn't want to perfect every detail of the wedding, but it's Rosalie and that's how it's going to be.

"I know Emmett wants to ask you this himself, but I'll just give you a head's up." Oh, this is gonna be good. "He wants you to be his best man."

"I, uh—what?" seems like I've been saying that a lot tonight.

"He's an only child and you're the closest family he has," she explained earnestly. I don't think I've ever heard Rosalie sound that sincere and—hopeful. "This means you'll be involved in wedding plans, but Vera is going to help me with most of that. Just be aware you're going to have to stand with dad and—be somewhat civil around him and mom."

I paused, not really knowing what to say. I mean, Rose and I were pretty close, but obviously we were more so than that. To have her fiancé want me to be the best man—this is pretty huge. Emmett was a nice guy and I definitely approve of the two of them. I've dealt with my parents for twenty-four years; I can handle one night of limited snarky remarks.

"Jasper, you still there?" she interrupted my inner monologue. I made a mumble of a reply, too flattered to speak. Did I just say 'flattered'? "So, what do you think?" she sounded nervous. Ha! Rosalie? Nervous? Tonight was definitely number one on my list of weird nights.

"I have to walk Vera down the aisle?" I asked with a dramatic sigh.

Rosalie laughed. "Well that's normally how the best man and maid of honor come in," she said, still laughing. "Vera's nice. You like Vera."

"Vera's husband's a hard ass and he's going to beat me up if I even look at her," I was, once again, being a little dramatic, but to make my sister laugh, I'd keep this up for an hour. It was nice to hear her happy.

"I'll tell John to behave," she assured me, her laughter dying off. All amusement fled the conversation as my subconscious spoke the next few words.

"Can you put me down for a 'plus one'?" Where the _fuck _did that come from?

I heard Rosalie choke on something and clear her throat. "'Plus one' like you're bringing a date?" she asked incredulously. I closed my eyes tightly and winced in regret. Why did I say that? "Who? Oh my God, why didn't you say anything tonight to mom and dad? It would've stopped the whole Maria shpeal. Can you believe she's moved back? I mean, seriously, it's like she can't let you move on and stop thinking about her—"

"Rose," I groaned, sitting up and slouching forward. She immediately stopped her rambling and apologized. I knew she didn't mean any harm by it. She was as shocked and pissed as I was.

"I'm not seeing anyone, I just may ask a—friend to come and help em avoid the Maria thing, if it happens again," I tried to explain. Rosalie mulled it over with a few 'hmm's, but didn't really let it go.

"A _friend, _huh?" she asked with a deviousness undertone. She read right through my bullshit.

"More like an acquaintance."

"Ah, now she's just an acquaintance," she was like a fucking echo.

"Nothing happened and probably nothing will," I continued, pausing as I heard laughter from the other room. Alice's soprano giggles giving me a few unmentionable (for fear of being ridiculed by you lovely people) reactions. "I may end up bringing Edward or something as cover."

"Ugh," Rosalie complained in distaste. "At least bring the drunk one."

"Peter?"

"Yeah, he's the life of any party," she said with another laugh. "I'll put you down for a plus one, baby bro."

"Thanks," we both sat in silence for a minute or two, just enjoying each other's indirect company, before I heard a bang and Emmett cuss in the background.

"If you spilled that on the new couch—" Rosalie began to threaten. "Oh, for the love of god…"

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," I said quickly, not wanting to get involved.

"Bye," she practically growled before the line went dead. I'd call again tomorrow to see if Emmett survived.

* * *

**A/N: **Why I chose this song (Advice [pilgrim]):

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."

Ah, The Shining. I think the edge to that Stevedores song really fits well with Jasper's attitude and still coping with the Maria situation. Alright, what do you all think? Did I do a good job with chapter two? Please leave a review and tell me what you think! Like/Hate? Let me know. Thanks for reading.


	3. You Hypocrite

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews, once again! I know Jasper seems like a jack ass, but keep reading. He gets better. There is a TON of music in this. Props to who knows every or more than half of the bands mentioned!

**Disclaimer: **The songs mentioned are _You Hypocrite _by Spencer Bell, _Wooden Heart _by The Duke Spirit, _Radio Rod _by BATTANT, _French Navy _by Camera Obscura, and _Synthia _by FM Belfast. The plot belongs to me. The characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Happy reading.

* * *

**You Hypocrite **

I stumbled out of bed that morning at noon. Taking a look around the apartment, I knew Edward was already downstairs at the shop. He'd leave later and make me wait around all day for the same people to come in, not to buy anything, just to jam or look around.

Don't get me wrong; we made a lot of money from the records shop we owned underneath our apartment. Still, there were always the same people who came in, who were really nice, but never wanted to buy anything. It _can _be a little overwhelming.

The walls were lined with cases of records from Radiohead, Muse, and The Killers to KISS, Aerosmith, Rolling Stones, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and Arcade Fire. Then we have some Rock Kills Kid, some Chevelle, Breaking Benjamin, Fuel, or some modern Paramore and Coldplay. The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, The Beach Boys, The Sex Pistols, The Clash, Crass, Minor Threat, The Cure, The Smiths, Nirvana, The Pixies, Oasis, Bloc Party, and The Arctic Monkeys. We had some Gogol Bordello, Seasick Steve, Pixies, and Cold War Kids. Did I mention Simon & Garfunkel and some Billy Joel? Come on, you gotta have the classics.

Along the walls were cases of albums and in the center of the shop were two more cases, filled to the brim with musical wonders. I didn't mind sitting in the shop for hours, just spewing out everything I knew about each album when someone would come in.

Edward was the same, but was always the earlier riser and—if you think about it—what music guru would wake up at nine in the morning to come down and buy an album? He gets the short end of the shtick, but I won the bet to get to sleep in…. That story is for a different time…

I showered, grabbed a cup of coffee and made my way downstairs. I blew a kiss to my bike in the back room and drew the curtain aside to come to the front of the store. I saw Edward putting a few records away on the opposite end, so I took his stool and sat behind the counter, nursing my coffee.

"Good morning, sunshine," he grumbled, his back still to me. I hummed back a reply, putting the now empty mug on the countertop and stretching my arms behind me.

I grabbed the scrap of paper in front of me and scribbled down the lyrics that came to my mind. "What's wrong with me? What's sour about the situation?" The pen's ink stopped, but the creative juices still flowed. I licked the tip of the pen and began again, finishing with, "Any lover knows 'forever's only clever phraseology used by the uninsured and the insecure to afford themselves time to explore their own morbidity."

I held the paper back and smirked with defiance, grabbing my coffee cup instinctually to take a celebratory sip, but alas, it was empty.

"Jasper," Edward slapped the counter space in front of me. I looked up, annoyed. Oh wait, had he been talking to me? "Did you hear anything I said?" Ugh, he _had_ been talking to me.

"Uh, no?"

"I'm going out with Bella," he began and I shrugged. He always went out with Bella. I looked back down at the paper, but as my gaze left Edward, it caught the red scarf of a customer. I did a double take, seeing Alice standing at the one of the cases toward the front—or opposite—end of the store.

"New lyrics?" Bella popped up next to me and I jumped out of my chair, cursing. "Ha, I scared him," she announced proudly to Edward, who smiled in that sappy-whipped way before looking back to me.

"Shut up," I said, wrapping an arm around her neck and squeezing gently.

"Are they sappy lyrics?" Bella continued, reaching for the paper that was still on the counter. I went to stop her, but Edward picked them up.

"I just had them in my head and—I probably won't even—" I began to back track, now fucking scared and self-conscious of my work. Edward read it over twice before looking up and nodding.

"Have any song to it or just the lyrics?" he asked and I shrugged, letting go of my hold on Bella. I reached out a hand to take it back, but Bella snatched it away instead.

"Just the lyrics for now," I answered, shoving my hands in my pockets.

"Cool. Keep working on it," he nodded in approval and Bella leaned her head against my shoulder.

"Oh, Jasper, you have such a way with words," she sighed dreamily. I narrowed my eyes and grabbed her around the waist, tickling her to death. "Not—f—fair!" she gasped out between giggles. I smirked and let her go as she smacked my shoulder.

"All right, get out, I'll man the fort," I waved a hand toward them and sat back on the stool. Bella stuck her tongue out at me and walked back in front of the counter, joining Edward.

I heard the bell of the door ring as they left and I turned around to change the record. I put in some Arctic Monkeys, "Cornerstone" to be exact, and then turned back to my lyrics. I tapped the pen anxiously, my foot bouncing up and down waiting for the creative juices to flow.

Where was I? Ah, right. "… to explore their own morbidity… and who's to say there's even space to move around and as far as all that goes…" I started to hum the melody out, reading over the lyrics and hoping for something else. I wasn't ending it there…

I lost my muse.

I drummed the pen against the corner of the desk, humming the melody over and over, but there was nothing to work with. How could I lose the poetry that fast? I bit the end of the pen and glanced around the store, seeing Alice dressed in leather leggings, an oversized white button down shirt and a red scarf; she held her coat in her hands. She was still standing and looking through the records. Huh, she didn't follow Thing One and Thing Two…

Without thinking—that's so like me, isn't it—I got up and walked around the front desk, down the aisle of overflowing records cases, and stood next to her. "Do you need help finding anything?" I asked and she glanced up at me, smiling, before looking back down at the cases.

"Nope, just looking around," she replied, her fingertips dancing along the seams of each wrinkled paper cover.

"Okay." Okay? _Okay? _Say something other than that, you fucking idiot!

"You uh, didn't want to go out with them?" What kind of question was that? You don't want to be going out with another couple, Alice? That's weird; I love doing that…

She laughed and shook her head, still looking down. "I don't want to be a third wheel," she explained, her laughter dying down.

I nodded dumbly and looked away. Cue the awkward silence… Ugh, what happened to my womanizer mojo? I didn't manipulate women, but I sure as hell always knew what to say and this was just sad.

Just as I was about to walk back to the counter and figure out the rest of that song, she spoke.

"Were you in the middle of something?" she asked, keeping her gaze to the records, but glancing up from beneath her lashes.

"I, uh—yeah, it was just some song that popped into my head this morning," I explained, brushing it off. God, since when did I stutter? This was fucking ridiculous.

"Sorry, did I distract you?" she asked, looking up with those apologetic doe eyes. I think I had heart palpitations.

"No, no, don't worry about it," I assured her, a little too quickly. She didn't look convinced, so I sighed, shuffling my feet and looking down. "I get random lyrics in my head and they never finish. I lost whatever it was."

She bit her lower lip and nodded, looking back toward the albums. "Did you write the songs that you played last night?" she continued, casually.

"Uh, the first one Edward and I wrote about—well," I smirked and looked up to catch her smile. "Shitty relationships, but the second one I wrote on my own. We normally toss around ideas depending on how life is going."

"I'm shocked he's not writing sappy love stories now," she quipped and I laughed. Wait, I laughed? When was the last time _that _happened?

"Are you into music?" I asked; leaning against the case and facing the opposite way, watching the records Alice picked out. It was a slow day, plus it was noon. Normally we got a ton of people at night or in the afternoon stopping in, so there was really nothing else to do, but enjoy some small talk. Small talk? What was I saying?

"I thought I was," she said with a smile. "I know the big name guys, but I don't know… The radio seems kind of too thin, you know?" I shrugged and she sighed, stepping back to meet my gaze. "You're a musician and you write lyrics. They mean something to you, right?" she asked and I nodded, not getting the point. "Well the shit on the radio is thin, one-sided; it doesn't hold anything, but a good beat. The people who put work into their music never get played."

She just put a lasso around my heart and pulled tight.

"Amen," I replied. She smiled and looked back down to the records, going back to her earlier task of sifting through unknown bands.

"It's sad; I've never even heard of half these bands," she noted, picking up a BATTANT album. I smirked, taking the album from her and going to the front of the store.

Without speaking, I switched records, taking Arctic Monkeys out and putting BATTANT in. "Radio Rod," I named the song, turning around at the first guitar riff began and I saw Alice had followed me. She leaned against the counter, putting her coat on top; I leaned against the back wall next to the record player, watching her reaction.

She inclined her head forward as if to hear it better, biting her lower lip in concentration and minutely nodding her head to the beat. The first verse played and she had no other distinct reaction until the chorus. The corner of her lips quirked up and she nodded. "I like this."

"Maybe you'll like this," I said, sifting through a stack I had next to the record player. I spun the record off the stand, placing the new one delicately into the player and beginning the song. "Camera Obscura," I named the band before the first two beats rang out.

Alice's concentration resumed and she smiled at the almost-vintage sounds of this band, but the same distinct female edge. She nodded eagerly about halfway through the song and I smiled in response, drumming my calloused fingertips against the wall. "Reminds me of The Ting Tings a little," she noted.

"Good call," I said, bowing to commend her connection. She giggled and I turned to dig through more records. "They're also kind of like FM Belfast," I mused as I dug around for their single.

I placed the new record in and gauged her reaction. She smirked at the futuristic keyboard synthesized beat. "This is more photo shoot kind of music," she said, tapping her foot to the beat and smiling.

"Feel-good music, but not the acoustic kind," I added to her description and she nodded, humming in agreement.

"Kind of like Metric," she connected and I smiled.

"You're good at this," I said, sifting through to find another record. She practically beamed at the compliment.

"So are you," she replied. "Ooh, wait doesn't Lykke Li kind of fit with this group?" This was mildly entertaining.

And so it continued on for the next few hours. I would play a record and she would tell me if she liked it or not. When she didn't, she would frown or shrug or squint, as if saying she didn't like it would offend me. When she did like it, she or I would pick and chose what other artist would fit well with the band. We went from Beirut to The Kooks, to Dr. Dog, Fleet Foxes, Chief, Yeasayer, Editors, Bon Iver. Then we moved onto Driftless Pony Club, The Dead Weather, and The Black Keys.

Three hours later, we landed on The Duke Spirit. I swore when I was younger that they made the best slow dance songs. Too bad school prom DJs didn't know real music. Thinking back, I realized I subconsciously put on one of the sexiest songs I knew. I realize now why I did, but then—not so much. It still worked in my favor.

By now, Alice was on the stool, leaning forward toward the record player. I was next to her, leaning against the counter and watching her reaction. She closed her eyes, humming lowly to the pre-chorus. Her legs crossed and her foot tapped instinctually to the beat. I smiled, waiting for her to say something.

She turned to look at me at the third chorus. Her eyelids were still heavy. All I could stare at were her lips; her full bottom lip gave her a permanent pout. She seemed to notice, her teeth catching her lower lip and tugging until the flush color faded. I bit the inside of my cheek as her cheeks reddened.

"I like this song," she murmured, her voice cracking at its whisper.

"Yeah?" I answered in a hoarse reply. She nodded, leaning toward me, giving me her consent. I met her gaze, hazy and needy—a mirror image of mine.

"I would understand your heart if I could feel it," the crisp, yet raspy vocals sang as my hand reached out to cup her cheek. Her hand rested on the back of my neck, her fingertips grasping my hair and gently tugging it. In any other approachable kiss, my arm would go around her waist, but her fingertips laced with mine and somehow I felt a better connection. I heard her breath hitch as our noses nuzzled against one another's, our lips an inch or so apart. I watched her lids close and allowed mine to do the same. _Don't screw this up. _

The bell to the front door rang and we both pulled apart. I rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly and glanced up to see Alice smoothing out the wrinkles on her leather-clad legs. Fuck me.

I looked toward the front of the store, to kill whoever had interrupted us and saw Bella and Edward coming in, Bella practically skipping behind Edward. Ha, they were both so whipped.

Edward gave me an uncomfortable wave, obviously knowing what he walked in on. I nodded toward him and stepped further away from Alice, who was still facing the record player and the back wall as another Duke Spirit song came on.

"The Step and The Walk?" Edward asked and I nodded again. "Nice."

"You're still here?" Bella asked Alice as she turned around and smiled at her and Edward. She shrugged and looked over at the clock.

"Wow, we uh—lost track of time," she said, glancing over at me with a timid smile before looking back over at Bella and Edward.

Bella shrugged. "I was just going to call you and see if you wanted us to pick you up something for dinner," she said, looking over at me and then back at Alice. There was a devious smirk under all that bullshit. I knew she set us up.

"Thanks for the invite, but I have to hang out here," I said, even though they didn't exactly invite me anywhere… Bella stuck her tongue out at me and I did the same.

"Party pooper," she spat childishly. She was too happy with Edward. It was making me sick.

"We can order something in," Edward suggested.

"You can just bring something back for me," I shrugged. I knew Edward wanted to talk to me. I didn't feel like it. Plus I didn't think he ha the right to clear a room to talk to me. I mean he _was _leaving me for the Whitlock Christmas Party. Speaking of, when was I making the move to ask Alice?

Get the hell outta here, Eddie, so I can pick up where I left off.

"Nah, it's cool. Italian food?" Bella asked and there were mutual hums, nods, and grunts of agreement. "Alright; well, you're both predictable, so same as always?" Edward and I nodded, but then Bella looked toward Alice expectantly.

"No, I'm fine. I should get going anyway," Alice said, hopping off the stool and grabbing her coat off the countertop.

"Do you need a ride?" I asked without thinking again. What happened to playing it cool? Ugh, Whitlock, you're really off your game.

"Thanks, but I'll walk," she said with a smile. Here I was a blubbering idiot and she was perfectly fine, playing it cool like I should be doing. It was like she sucked out all of my calm, cool, collected shit and spit it right back at me, mocking me for losing my suaveness. It wasn't fair.

"I'll see you later, Bella," she said, turning to flash me a sincere grin. "Thanks for the music lesson." I nodded, feeling that lasso around my heart tighten some more as I watched her leather clad legs take their walk out of the shop. When the bell rang for the second time, once the door shut, there was only a beat before the questions started.

"_What _was that?"

"'Thanks for the _music _lesson'? There was definitely something else going on." Yeah, kind of…

"Are you done moping now? Cause, Jesus Christ, the moping was getting annoying." Sorry my ex-fiance cheated on me and it took me a long fucking time to get over it.

"Maybe he'll write some better shit now." Ouch, that one hurt. Meh, it was probably true.

"When are you seeing her again? Cause y'know, now we're leaving and she's not going to keep stopping by—"

"You two have impeccable timing," I said, ignoring their shit and taking a step back, grabbing all the records and going to the various cases to put them back. Bella followed me, standing on one side of me while Edward was on the other. I liked to think of them as the devil and angel on my shoulders—guess who's the devil.

"If you screw this up, I will never forgive you," Bella began. "She's the best roommate I've ever had and I don't want to lose her because you can be an asshole." I turned to glare at her, dropping the records. "A poetic asshole?" she amended with a smile.

"Thanks, Bella," I replied with a groan, picking the records back up. "Look, can you guys leave me alone? I don't need relationship advice because we're not in a relationship. I'm twenty-fucking-four years old; I'm not fourteen. You don't need to tell me how to ask a fucking girl out and what not to do."

There was a pause—probably where Edward and Bella looked at each other for what to say next. I kept at my work, glad that I got out what had to be said. They'd probably make me feel guilty somehow.

"Well get your advice now because we're leaving for Seattle tomorrow morning," Bella said, leaning toward me and dangling the temptation in front of me like the advice was a bone and I was a hungry mutt. I _was _a hungry mutt.

Still, I resisted talking about Alice for two reasons. One, it was embarrassing as hell. Two, anything about Alice was for Alice to tell me herself, not to learn through a second party. If she wanted to tell me her favorite color, she would. Alright, not just a favorite color, but that was an example… Moving on.

Four hours and six different pastas later, we talked about everything but Alice. I asked about Charlie, Bella's dad, just to be polite. I asked about the drive up there, how bad it would be. Bella asked about the Christmas Party, I ignored her and talked about being Emmett's best man—even though he hadn't asked me yet. She asked about Rosalie, even though Rosalie loathed Bella for no legitimate reason. Then she asked—cautiously—about Maria.

"Does your mom know about her cheating?"

"Ha, she wouldn't believe me if I told her. It's almost like Maria is the daughter she never had, but wanted more than me," I exaggerated a bit, but it worked.

"Maybe she'd stop pushing her on you if she knew," Bella suggested, closing a container of lasagna.

"My dad cheated on my mom hundreds of times," once again, an exaggeration, "and she just chose to ignore it. I don't want to be treated like shit. I don't think she understands the concept of self-worth."

"So the Christmas party…" she trailed off, glancing up at Edward as he stood and started taking plates into the kitchen, smiling gratefully at him.

"I'll go and avoid her," I shrugged. "I know my mom invited her and I don't want to talk to her, but Rose and Emmett are attached at the hip and so that's awkward. Maria's family is going, too, so then I have Nettie and Lucy turning into freaking gnats that I can't get rid of."

There was a pause as Bella hugged her legs to her chest and grabbed her beer off the table, taking a sip before putting it back. "You should invite Alice," she said.

"Is this your indirect advice?" I asked in disbelief.

"No, I'm serious," she said with some kind of sincerity. Hmm… "Think about it: your parents are going to be busy entertaining other guests so they won't harass her. Maria will leave you alone and then you get Rosalie's opinion."

"You hate Rose's opinions," I interrupted with a smirk.

"Yeah, well you don't," she replied. "Plus I think they would have more in common." True, Rosalie would probably—no definitely approve of her fashion sense. She was, after all, not wearing chucks and plaid like Bella.

"It doesn't have to be a date thing, it can just be a casual, 'my parents suck, can you get me out of an awkward dinner party' thing," Bella suggested. I mulled it over, my fingers tracing the rings of condensation on our dining room table.

I didn't know. I mean, Alice was cool and everything and I had planned on asking her to the Christmas party before I even really talked to her, but to hear the idea from Bella made it less jerky. Still, I doubt she'd agree to go to a family party when we weren't a couple. Well, I was going to go with Edward, so I could have someone to talk to, and we weren't a couple… All right, this was getting weird. Point is, she won't say yes.

"She _will_ say yes." It was like Bella read my mind.

Later that night, I sat on my bed, leaning my back against the headboard as I stared at that scrap of paper from earlier that morning. The lyrics were still unfinished, but I felt the creativity stirring. I jumped to grab a pen from the nightstand and scribbled the rest out around the wrinkled edges—I'd have to transfer it onto other paper later, but there was no time now.

I wrote the last few lines out: "Deception has a form of self protection from the thoughts that creep up while your trying to sleep. Yep, you're probably better off being blissful in your ignorance." Hmm, I found my muse again.

* * *

**A/N: **The end is kind of abrupt, but I'm hungry... Okay, reviews. Tell me what you think is going to happen, how you liked this chapter, and if you recognized any of the bands mentioned. Kudos if you knew some of the more obscure bands. :) Thanks for reading!


	4. Yeah, Girl

**A/N: **Once again thank you for all the reviews and for reading! Special shout-out to **deltagirl74** for her awesome review, "I love how he is so tied up over her. His smooth, asshole ways seem to melt with her around." Couldn't have said it better myself! Happy reading, everyone!

**Disclaimer: **The song mentioned is _Yeah, Girl _by Spencer Bell. The plot belongs to me. The characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Happy reading.

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**Yeah, Girl**

Blinding lights in my face, screaming girls at the edge of the stage, rocking bass reverberating in the cozy bar… I was stepping outside of myself, watching as my fingers ran up and down the fret board with my wicked solo—if I do say so myself. Pete was sober—for once—taking up a pretty sweet new beat. Edward was shyly buried in his keyboard.

I looked back toward myself, standing center stage in front of Pete with our name plastered on the bass drum. Shit, we had a name! Awesome, but back to me: I was staring out into the audience, smirking a cocky grin. All the ovulating women may be the cause of that _or _a certain woman.

The song ended and grinning me cracked, slinging the guitar over my shoulder and holding my hand out into the audience to pick one of the lucky ladies. Outer self blinked before seeing rock star self help Alice up on stage—what?

She grinned with me in that whipped Edward-Bella kind of way, her cheeks bright red even in the dim lighting. Wolf-whistles from the crowd echoed. I went in and out of the dream, but definitely saw my head dip down, her gasp, our eyes close, my arms wrap around her waist, our noses nuzzle, and our lips—

"Come on, man, get _up_." I woke up with a hard-ass pillow to the face. Grumbling, I rolled over, thrashing in my tangled blankets, and sure enough, I fell off the bed. God damn it.

"Dreaming you were a rock star again?" Edward chimed in as Peter laughed at my injury. Remind me again why I was a friend with these heartless assholes?

I groaned in aches and pains—a new language I made up—and rolled over, grabbing the pillow off the mattress and laying it back underneath my head. All the while I never opened my eyes cause I'm a talented motherfucker.

"That's a yes," Eddie continued. Asshole.

"We had a name," I said, waving my hand aimlessly in the air above me. "Shut up so I can figure out what our name was."

"No can do, bud," Peter said, hopping up on my bed and knocking more stuff off onto my face. Jesus Christ…

"Why the hell are you here?" I grunted.

"I love you, too."

"Peter is just here to take the morning shift like I normally do," Edward explained, ignoring the bickering. "Come on, Jasper, I have to head over to Bella's."

"So go!" I yelled, still not opening my eyes. I was determined to sleep.

"The morning shift is over, you slept the whole fucking morning," Peter wasn't in the mood to be easily manipulated either. "I want to go home and need you to get the hell out of bed before either of us can leave."

I made the move to get up in an angry huff, but my blankets made a labyrinth and I was kind of stuck lying on the ground for a bit while I untangled myself to begin a new dramatic exit. I finally opened my eyes to witness Peter's snort and Edward's smirk. I flipped them both off as I trudged off to the bathroom.

"You can both leave now," I called from over my shoulder, slamming the door behind me.

"Again: no can do," Peter called. "Who knows if you're not just going to fall asleep in the bathtub?"

"That was one time," I grumbled to myself, splashing cold water on my face.

Once I was showered, dressed, and decent, I managed to grab a cup of coffee before following Peter and Edward downstairs. I took over the shop and the two of them left. I forgot to ask Edward when he'd be back… Oh well.

I sat drumming my fingers against the countertop. No lyrics, but I did bring my guitar down to keep me company. I began playing out the chords for the song I had written yesterday, something Edward could add to when he got back from Seattle… or where ever Bella's dad lives.

There were a couple people wandering aimlessly around the store, but they didn't need any help, so it was just me and my guitar… Wow, aren't I pathetic?

The bell to the front door rang and my eyes shot up to see yet another new customer buying last minute Christmas presents. Not that that's a bad thing—I hadn't even started and most people don't expect gifts from me, but random patched homemade mix tapes. Actually, Edward and Bella being out of town gives me more time to work on that…

"Can I help you find something?" I called, looking back down at the guitar.

"No thanks, just looking," whoever replied. That's normally how it went—especially for guys. He'd get overwhelmed in about twenty minutes and ask for help.

My calluses slid up the fret board, beginning the plucking pattern for the early riff. The bell rang again and my eyes shot up as I hit a sour note. Still wasn't her.

Why was I expecting her to come? It's not like we really talked about anything other than music yesterday and then she left—all right, an almost-kiss and then she left. Still, I couldn't help but fantasize (what guy doesn't?); 'I could only _hope' _might be as better choice of words.

I hoped she would come into the store, clear the room—or not, who cares who was watching—slam me against the wall and have her way with me. Hah or I could go to her apartment, knock on the door, make my way inside, press her against the door and have my way with her—while contaminating every surface in Bella's apartment. Perfection.

"How much?" a customer brought me back to reality, holding up a Chief album.

"Forty-five," I said off-handedly, looking down as the phone rang. I sighed, getting off the stool and making my way over to the wall phone.

"Forty-five?" the guy groaned.

"It's a record, dude, not a CD," I shrugged. "CD's are over there," I motioned toward the case on the other side of the room, the phone's ringing starting to get annoying. "But I don't think we have a Chief one. Sorry."

The man grumbled something and put the record down.

"Uh, Cactus Records, what's up?" I love my greetings.

"Jasper?" Three things came to mind at this panicked voice. One: identifying that it was Rosalie. Check. Two: Who died? Three—okay, maybe there were only two.

"What happened?" her voice was not only panicked, it was grave like someone's in the hospital, like something fucking serious happened, but the next few sentences came out in a jumble and I could barely understand her. "Rose, Rose, calm down and talk slow," I interrupted her halfway through the chaos.

"Vera is sick," she began, pausing to exhale dramatically—or maybe it was justified.

"Is she okay?" I tried to stay calm, too.

"She's fine, just a really bad stomach virus, but that's not the point," she dismissed. Ah, there was heartless Rose. "The venue for my wedding. I called to book the date and it's taken, it's booked for another two years."

"Wait, wait, why were you calling to book the date? You have, like, a year," I didn't really find this to be a tragedy, but I played along, not pestering her. I knew better.

"It's not a year, Jasper, it's eight months." Hold back the snarky comments, Jasper, hold them in.

"What do you need me to do?" I asked, swallowing my sarcasm and trying to help her out. She was hysterical and she was my twin. The least I could do was help her out a little, not that I had in the past.

"I don't know!" she exclaimed, sniffling an shuffling some papers too close to the receiver so I got a shit load of static on my end. "Emmett is away on a business trip until Christmas Eve for the party, but I can't wait for him to come home. Vera is sick, so she's no help and all the bridesmaids are either away seeing their family or off in New York to do last minute Christmas shopping. I didn't know who else to call."

Well, regardless if I was useless or not in this category, score for Jasper because she didn't call our parents. At least I knew she still thought of me as family and somewhat better than mom and dad… Now how could I help and prove that I was somewhat valuable?

"I already told everyone that date, so the date is set regardless. Fuck, I mean, Em and I already agreed on this venue and I should have booked it right then and there and I didn't and now—" her voice cracked and she hiccupped on a dry sob.

I looked up as the bell to the front door rang. The cheap bastard with the Chief record had left without getting anything. I would've been more pissed at his stinginess, but the door closing behind him gave me an epiphany.

"I can help," I immediately blurted out, now too excited with my revelation.

"Wha—how?" she asked incredulously. Oh ye of little faith.

"Come over in a half hour and I'll explain," I said, not giving her a chance to answer before I hung up. I got a little overzealous and looked around the store. "Store is closing in a half hour, so if you need help finding anything feel free to ask. We're open tomorrow." I probably shouldn't have cleared out the place before I knew if my plan would work, but whatever.

I dialed Bella's apartment number and waited for her to pick up. "Bella, I know you left the blue sweater home and if you're calling to apologize, don't. You just won't get laid on this trip," Alice answered bitterly.

"Uh—it's not Bella," I said with a smirk. There was a long pause and my smirk only grew to a full-fledged grin. "And I don't know if Chief Swan would like it if—"

"I'm sorry," Alice interrupted in a murmur, obviously mortified. For the first time since I met her, I finally felt in control of the conversation and my emotions.

"No big deal," I replied. Now how do I word this?

"Well Bella left a while ago, so—" her voice trailed off.

"I'm not looking for Bella," I answered quickly.

"Oh… kay."

I took a deep breath and started off with, "I have a favor to ask…"

"Shoot," she replied, building her confidence back up.

"My sister's getting married, but the venue is booked for the next decade," I love when I exaggerate. "So uh, I was wondering if you could help her find somewhere else."

"When is she getting married?" Alice seemed interested. Okay, this was a good plan.

"Eight months," ha, I got it right. See? I listen.

"Is she into churches or ballrooms?"

"I—Ha, see this is where I stop being helpful," I said with a sigh and heard her giggle. "Look, she's totally freaked since no one else is around to help her and I've been an asshole of a brother for the past—well our whole lives, so I owe it to her. She's coming over in a half hour, so if you can come around then too and talk it out with her?" I waited a second or two for any kind of response. Even a 'no' would suffice.

"Magic word," Alice replied simply.

"Huh?"

"The magic word, Whitlock," she repeated. God, somehow I like my outdated family name when she said it.

"Uh, please?" I guessed.

"Half hour it is," she said, I could practically hear her grin.

"Th—thank you," there was the stuttering again.

"You owe me," she added before I heard the dial tone. Somehow it didn't seem threatening. She didn't seem to be annoyed that she was working on one of her days off or even that I asked her this. She was a tease and got me with the fucking 'magic word' cliché. Fuck me.

The half hour passed pretty quickly. I got everyone out of the shop, making sure they could find anything they needed. Funny how I knew where every speck of dust was in that store. I digress…

Alice walked in with her hair curled, moccasins, skinny jeans, an oversized sweater, and a scarf to brace the cold wintry day. Although she was dressed perfectly casual, the faint blush to her frostbitten cheeks and her illuminated eyes from the cold was anything but ordinary. She stopped by just a few seconds after Rosalie and thus the introductions began.

"Rosalie, Alice," I introduced. "Alice, Rosalie."

"Rose," she corrected. Only Emmett and I were allowed to call her that… "So what is your master plan?" she continued, turning to me.

"Uh—Alice is an event planner and knows some venues," I explained—kind of.

"Huh," Rose said, seeming unconvinced.

"I have a few ideas in mind, but I need to know more about the wedding," Alice took over, thank god. She took out a big ass binder and put it on the countertop. "Church or ballroom?"

Rosalie looked a little taken aback—so did I—and hesitated before answering. "Ballroom sounds nice," she replied.

"Vintage or modern?" Alice said, weeding out the churches and sticking to the other subcategories of halls.

"Vintage," Rosalie said with a smile. Alice also smiled in approval and I kind of felt useless standing there. Still, Rosalie asked me for help and I felt like leaving her with someone she just met wouldn't be too good considering the fact that Rose had told me that I was the only one from the wedding party who wasn't away or sick.

"Would you want the reception outside?" Alice asked. "Eight months takes us into August. There's a venue about two hours from here that has a hotel for guests, traditional hall for the wedding, and it's overlooking the Pacific Ocean."

"I—uh, wow," Rosalie stuttered.

"Hold on, let me call them and see if we can go check it out," she said with a smile, before pulling out her cell phone, dialing the number from the binder, and stepping away from us so we could discuss or maybe to escape the shitty reception.

"She better be your plus one," Rose threatened and I hid my smile.

"I thought you wanted Peter to come," I pouted, hopping up to sit on the counter, my back facing Alice. "I already asked him," I lied with a smirk.

"He'll get over it," she said, smacking my arm.

"We can head over there now. He doesn't book that far in advance, but he made a note of it and he'll keep it open for you if you're interested," Alice said, coming back from the other side of the room.

"Thank you," I said for Rosalie, who was still speechless. I scored some brother points for once.

Alice smiled and closed her binder, tucking it back into her bag. "I'll drive," she offered as well, but Rosalie was quick to show off her car.

"No, the least I could do is drive," she insisted. Alice shrugged.

"I don't mind," she said, glancing over at me.

"Then let me drive," Rose replied.

"Yes, let her show off her baby," I said with a roll of my eyes, hopping off of the counter. Rosalie whacked my arm again and I jumped away from her. "Stop hitting me," I said in a somber tone, making both Rosalie and Alice laugh. Huh, great. Can't take me seriously, huh?

We headed outside to Rosalie's cherry red BMW—present from mommy and daddy after graduation. I got a pamphlet for the best military academy—one of the many I had received over the years.

I sat in the back, lounging and catching up on the sleep I had missed from my wakeup call a couple hours before. Alice sat in the passenger seat.

"How'd you meet your fiance?" Alice started the ever so awkward small talk after the first few minutes on the road.

"Freshman year of college," Rosalie smiled reminiscently—genuinely. "We've lived together for a while."

"Why August?" Alice asked.

"I love the summer. I used to go to New York every summer in high school and even through college. I loved the heat in August," Rose explained and I slouched down in my seat, closing my eyes and dozing off at the sound of the rain hitting the canvas top.

I really just slouched there, half conscious and too exhausted to really speak or move. I had stayed up the night before wide-awake. Not only was the lack of melody haunting me, but so were those freaking doe eyes. Still, I was practically an insomniac, only sleeping at the worst possible times because my body refused to work with me and give me some z's when I needed them.

"Wake up," I heard her whisper in my ear, nudging me gently. "Come on, Jazz," that nickname was new… I kind of liked it.

I blinked, trying to focus on the figure in front of me. The sun blared through the window and I struggled to see anything really. Alice gradually came into focus with that mischievous smile and those fucking doe eyes.

"Your sister is with Demetri," Alice explained like I was conscious enough to comprehend.

"Who's Demetri?" I asked dumbly.

"The manager of the Volturi Inn," she explained with an impatient sigh. "I want to show you something; get out," she begged, using the pout she probably used on her parents to get another cookie after dinner.

I faltered for a second before getting out of the car. Alice grinned, shutting the door and locking it—Rose gave her the keys?—before taking my hand and dragging me off to the building. We went down some steps before walking into the hotel. Alice smiled and waved at a man at the front desk before she tugged me toward the elevator.

In my daze, I hadn't really processed that our fingers were laced together. She pressed the floor level button and the elevator ride from the ninth floor—wait the ninth floor? Was I still asleep?

"What exactly are you showing me?" I asked, rubbing my eye.

"Sh, it's a surprise," she said, sticking her tongue out at me. I chuckled at the childish remark, definitely embracing the dream.

The elevator bell rang and the doors opened. We passed a couple and their two kids, her grip and pull getting a bit more urgent. We came to two glass doors that led out to the beach. Alice opened the doors, still pulling me along. We went down the wooden steps to the sand, where she kicked off her shoes and left them there. I did the same, following her until she let go of my hand to nimbly climb one of the rocks on the edge of the tide.

The waves crashed up on the rocks and she doubled back, but stayed atop of the rocks. She grinned, turning back to look at me. "I couldn't have you sleeping through the whole trip," she explained. "The beach was just a way for you to wake up easier."

She was right, the wind whipping my face made me open my eyes a bit more and fight the feeling of wanting to go back to sleep. So it wasn't a dream…

"Thanks," I said, hopping up on the rocks to sit and watch the water. She managed to sit beside me, her elbow nudging me as she hugged her knees to her chest.

"I used to come here all the time with my parents," she said, easily opening up with an anecdote. "They would let me run rampant around the halls." I hadn't heard much about her at all, but she had probably heard about my parent dilemma from the night that I met her and she spent time with Edward and Bella alone.

"Did you come here for vacation or—" I trailed off, kind of interested to know more. No, I was desperate to learn more about the mystery girl.

"I was really young, but I think a branch of my dad's business was out here," she explained, squinting to find details of the memory. "We traveled a lot. I lived in Mississippi, New York, Washington, Alaska, Oregon—"

"Where do they live now?" I asked, picking up a rock and tossing it toward the incoming tide that lazily crept up the rocks.

"Uh," her voice cracked. What did I say? I glanced over at her and she smiled halfheartedly. "When I was five, I was waiting for my mom to pick me up outside of kindergarten. All the kids had left already and I was kind of pissed. My mom normally forgot about me once my baby sister was born. I remember a few teachers coming over and one of them sat next to me on the front steps to tell me what happened." She paused at the memory, turning to look over at me. Those pretty little doe eyes tainted with undeserved haunting.

"They died in a house fire and really didn't have a legitimate will, so I was put in foster care until I was about twelve," suddenly her voice lightened. "I went to Chicago and lived with a Dr. and Mrs. Cullen for a while. They were good friends with Edward's parents, so I met him around then. My new family is up in Alaska now. I normally go up and visit them around New Year's."

I sat back, trying to take that all in. Here this seemingly mysterious and sexy woman laid her entire life out on the table in front of me and it seemed more of a horror flick than a past fit for such a generous and kind young lady.

"Sorry," she giggled nervously. "I overwhelmed you, didn't I?" This seemed to be the Alice that her family would know. It seems before she put on a façade, just as I had: a mask to keep the opposite sex completely weak at the knees, emotionally unstable, unable to sleep, and a stuttering, blubbering mess.

And, if I were to be on the right track, the mask was to stop people from hurting her anymore than she had already been hurt. She was testing me and once she gained the trust, she decided to open up to me. I felt pretty lucky.

"No, I just—didn't expect that," I assured her. "I'm—really sorry for all the shit you went through," I tried to be as heart-felt as possible, but how do you even approach a response after all of that?

"It's okay," she said, shivering at the cold. "Well I mean, it isn't, but—thanks." I shrugged off my coat and draped it over her shoulders as she shivered some more. She turned to give me an appreciative smile. "Such the gentleman," she teased and I smirked.

"I try," I kept the mood light, leaning back and stretching my legs out in front of me. We enjoyed the silence for a while, relishing in each other's company. I let my mind drift to new lyrics that I hoped I would remember for later_: Yeah, girl, I can tell that you've been playing games with me and that just shows me that you're going insane for me…_ Hah, this would be a fun song and another all-nighter.

"I think I decided what you owe me for today," Alice interrupted my thoughts and I looked up. She was smiling that mischievous smile again. Oh no…

"Okay," I said, my voice trailing off in fear, but she was just casually watching the incoming tides. Alice's eyes widened and she yelped as the wave crashed up over the rocks and soaking us… Great.

We both hopped up, the water surrounding the rock so we had no way out. Alice was laughing and I found myself joining her. I let every wall I had every built since Maria come crumbling down with Alice around. The water finally receded and we hopped off the rock toward safety.

Alice was still giggling when we were far enough away from the water. I fell back on the sand, letting my laughter die off as I watched her twirl around in the winter sunshine. I smiled, letting her shadow block out the sun here and there. She was a bundle of sunshine herself; somehow optimistic despite the literal hell she went through as a kid.

"What the heck happened to you guys?" I heard my sister's voice approaching us, but I couldn't keep up the act any longer and found myself laughing harder. "He's finally lost his mind!" Rose gasped dramatically and Alice giggled.

"Sorry about that," she said, skipping over to stand beside Rosalie, right over me. "How'd you like it?"

"It's amazing," Rosalie replied with a grin. "The date is booked. I can't even begin to thank you. How can I repay you?" she asked and Alice smiled, pleased with the closed deal. She sat on the sand next to me, leaning back against my propped up leg.

"Jasper and I already set up a payment plan," she said with a leftover giggle. Rosalie looked from Alice to me and then back to Alice with an all-knowing smile. Still, I couldn't grasp or salvage the old stubborn asshole act. I was too—happy… Wow, that's new.

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**A/N: **What'd you think? Do you think Rosalie and Alice talked while Jasper slept (lazy ass...)? :) I don't know how many chapters this will be. To be honest, I don't have a really good plan. I know of what will happen in the basics for the next chapter, but when I start writing, the characters really decide what's going to happen. Weird, huh?

For the reviews: What do you think will happen next? What do you think the price is for Alice helping Rosalie on her day off? What will Jasper have to do? I love reading your guesses and some of you are normally pretty close. Thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed.


	5. Midnight

**A/N: **Sorry it took forever. Hope everyone's holidays went well!

**Disclaimer: **The song mentioned is _The Stars Are Mighty Bright Tonight (Midnight) _by Spencer Bell. The plot belongs to me. The characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Happy reading.

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**The Stars Are Mighty Bright Tonight (Midnight)**

"Thanks again, Alice," Rose repeated yet _again _as she pulled up in front of the record shop; the rain pattered at the car's roof and a small flood that began at the curb sloshed against the tires. This was the most I had ever heard Rosalie thank anyone—if ever.

"It was no trouble at all," Alice beamed, obviously proud of her job well done and constant praise—but I knew in that little head of hers she was planning evil, _evil _tasks for me to undertake. There was no way she was this innocent.

She calmly danced around the subject on the beach just before Rosalie had interrupted us and laughed nonchalantly about whatever she had already planned in the car. And just before I thought it could get any worse, Rosalie began suggesting things I hate to do. Eternal slave was one of them—groceries, cleaning, fetching, playing dead, etc. Funny, Rosalie was fine with not being charged so long as I was being humiliated.

So naturally, the whole car ride I replayed the scene in my head wondering what the fuck she wanted. A date? Nah, she was too much of a tease for that.

Maybe dinner… Again, she was too much of a tease. I think dinner, date, and all that follows was going to be my job if this went any further. Maybe she needed a favor getting someone a Christmas present and it had to do with music. Maybe her boyfriend needed some new music…

Up until now I had assumed she was single, but her running out after our almost kiss and her quick exits were making me uneasy. Then again Alice had told me probably the most personal story she had. But hadn't Bella said she was single? I couldn't remember, no, that's not true: I only half-listen to everything.

I do vaguely remember Bella telling me to ask her out, so doesn't that mean she's single? Unless she's into reverse polygamy… Alright. What. The. _Fuck?_

I was getting paranoid, as the suggestions had worn on; hence my barely sane state.

Alice opened the door and popped out her umbrella. I moved her seat up and crawled out the back with my hood up, shutting the door behind me. Rosalie rolled down the window, not making a move to come out of the car. I leaned down and rested my arms to keep the window down, ducking my head in.

"Hey, Alice," Rosalie called over my shoulder. This didn't sound like a good 'hey, Alice,' this sounded like 'hey I forgot the other way I was going to humiliate Jasper; come back!'

I leaned out of the car as Alice approached, backing up so I stood beside her.

"There's a party at the _esteemed Whitlock abode_," I taught her that sarcasm, but I didn't teach her to use it in this—

"God damn it, Rose," I grumbled under my breath, turning away from the car. Great, so it looks like I made my sister ask her out. Cool.

"You should come and meet Emmett if you aren't busy," she continued. Alice was thrown under the bus and I was left dateless for tomorrow night.

"I don't want to intrude." That's it, Alice, run like the fucking devil.

"You wouldn't be," Rosalie replied too quickly. "Jasper always brings Edward, but since he bailed last minute—it'd be better if you came anyway; no one wants to deal with emo Edward."

"I—uh—"

Quick, Alice, think of an excuse.

"You're not busy, right?"

I swear to fucking god… Quick, doe eyes, think of something!

Too late.

"Great, I'll see you tomorrow! Jasper will give you details," she grinned her contrite grin and Alice backed up in a daze. "Thanks again for today! I can't thank you enough!" Rosalie continued even as Alice was out of earshot.

I immediately stole Alice's spot, ducking my head into the car and glaring at her.

"What, the rain's going to mess up your hair so you're not coming inside?" I quipped. She stuck her tongue out at me, shaking her head and glancing back at Alice who was huddled under her umbrella far enough away that she wouldn't hear the snarky sister comments that were on Rose's mind.

But all my darling sister said was "you're welcome," and with a final smirk, she drove off, barely letting me move away from the car. Ugh. Maybe it was a bad idea that I let Rosalie meet Alice before anything happened.

I shuffled my feet and turned to see Alice looking up at me with those hazy doe eyes.

"How does she do that?" she asked quietly, still watching the corner as if Rosalie would come back around again.

"What, manipulate the fuck out of you?" I asked and from Alice's silence, I guessed that was a yes. "You never had a chance; it's in the Whitlock genes: schmooze them over and fuck them over. She's getting almost as good as my mother."

I sighed and went past her, unlocking the front door to the shop and holding it open for Alice, who finally came to from her daze. She walked in front of me and I took her umbrella, shutting it for her so she could better escape the rain—and then internally wincing at my gentleman bullshit.

"Sorry I dragged you out today," I winced again. How could I be so fucking weak?

"It was fun," Alice said with a smile, following me to the back room where I had left her bag and other things that she hadn't brought with her to the venue. "Until that last part," she giggled, "but it was fun. I've been in Portland for a little under a year, so it's nice to meet more people."

Yeah, Rosalie is definitely someone you want to like you. I bit my tongue.

I shuffled a little bit more, debating my next move as she gathered her things. I was already a fucking mess around her and had surpassed awkward moments. Should I just go for while I'm still at her mercy, owing her for today and just adding another favor on my tab? Might as well… Wow, I sound needy.

Maybe I should make it clear that she doesn't have to go to the party—but then again, I'm kind of desperate and if I act like I don't want her going that doesn't help my favor… When I first met Alice I was only interested in getting the plus one for the Christmas party to shut Maria up, but now I kind of didn't want to screw shit up. Not just because I knew Bella would eat me if she found out I said anything mean to her only mentally stable roommate, but because she was cool. That sounds lame. Moving on.

I was still mildly pissed at Rosalie for mentioning the party without asking me first and without giving Alice a real outlet or chance to say no, but then again… I was a little relieved. I didn't know how to ask Alice on my own anyway. I'd end up thanking Rosalie later tonight.

"What's under the Spiderman bed sheet?" Alice interrupted my internal babble with a giggle, pointing over at my overprotected Ducati—maybe understandably overprotected is the right way to describe it.

"Oh, uh—my bike," I answered as if she naturally assumed it was a motorcycle, but she kind of just stared at me.

"You keep a mountain bike under a Spiderman sheet?" she asked incredulously. Well I guess in good ol' going-green Portland a tricycle would be suitable if one didn't own a Hybrid.

"Not that kind of bike," I said with a smirk, motioning for her to take the sheet off. She did and I wished I had a camera to capture her reaction. It was like Edward's and Bella's and pretty much everyone's reaction when they first saw it. I believed it was carved from angels and made especially for me because I'm a cocky bastard sometimes.

And just like that, she slapped my arrogance away with a devilish smirk. She glanced up from just beneath her lashes, still looking back to admire the beaut. So was _this _going to be the price of today? Anything but my Ducati! Anything but a lot of things, actually, including the Ducati… and my instruments… and my record collection… and…

"You do have that whole bad boy thing down, don't you?" she interrupted my list making of things she'll take over my dead body. I blinked weirdly at the question—not that I don't blink all the time… Moving on.

"What?" Was that an accusation or a joke? I could never tell with those devious snarky doe eyes.

"Tattoos, leather jacket, your hair is always a mess like you don't care or just rolled out of bed, but with your sleeping habits, I wouldn't be surprised. You have a band that sings about women fucking you over," little miss dirty mouth, I was a tad shocked.

"You sleep like you need a full twenty-four hours to wake up, you say you hate your parents and yet you have a heart tattoo for your mom with an arrow through it. I'm sure she wasn't exactly thrilled with that or your middle age crisis motorcycle, even though you haven't gotten to the crisis age yet."

"Take a breath," I interjected at her long-winded speech.

"Were you always a rebel without a cause?" she finished with that lovely question.

"Do you always analyze people?" I ignored everything she just put on the table. I guess fair was fair. I knew more about Alice than she knew about me; she was just trying to figure me out. How cute, but she hasn't got the half of it—or maybe she does. Aw, this is no fun, am I really an open book? I'm upset.

"I think I am entitled to figure you out," she replied, childishly adding her tongue out to keep me from arguing. Agreed, Miss. I-Wear-Leather-The-Second-Day-I-Meet-A-Guy.

"Entitled, huh?" I crossed my arms, leaning back against the doorframe with a smirk.

"Yep," she replied with the same triumphant smirk that made me a little more on edge. I knew that she knew a lot more than I wanted her to know. Come on, I had said from the beginning, I was trying to keep some mystery in there and all Alice was, was a bundle of mystery. I couldn't fucking handle it and the longer we were together, the harder it was to keep up the charade.

"So do I get a ride?" Alice asked, looking back at the bike and beaming with excitement.

…

"Yeah, sure." _Really?_

"Really?" she asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Yeah, Jasper. _Really? _

Since I met Alice, my conscience and my voice box have been separated. I don't think I've thought before I spoke once.

Still, I couldn't go back on it now, seeing as she was so fucking excited all of a sudden. What the hell?

I managed to get her to wear a helmet, even though she refused for a good twenty minutes—I exaggerate, you should know this—and she claimed that she hates helmet hair; she's too much like Rosalie.

And then we were outside. She stood awkwardly beside the bike, now second-guessing herself. My heavenly possession roared to life. I caught Alice's expression and she looked cautiously at the bike, now listening to anything her parents and/or friends told her about dudes on motorcycles—they're the devil's spawn, Miss. Alice! Hah, I'm funny.

"We don't bite," I cooed.

I held out my hand for her to take. She immediately met my eyes, looking almost shocked by the gesture—I wasn't exactly fluent in reading those doe eyes yet—but she took it anyway. I guided her over to sit behind me, coaxing her to swing her leg over and scoot up. Then, of course, I wrapped her arms around my waist for her to hold on tight.

You'd think this would have been my idea seeing how close we were, but that Alice was quite coy…

"You okay?" I asked, turning my head to glance over my shoulder.

"Yep," she replied over the roar of the engine.

I immediately took off and she yelped, gripping me tighter. I wasn't showing off today, that's not my gig anyway. I don't like putting all my shit on the table for women to gawk at. Bella's apartment was only eight blocks away, but around the fifth block, Alice leaned her cheek against my soaked leather jacket and let the humming purr of the motor relax her.

I pulled up in front of the building, turning off the engine and hopping off first to help her off. Again, I offered my hand and she took it without a second thought, hopping off the back of the bike, clutching her bag, and tugging my hand to follow her under the overhang of the building to escape the rain.

"Thanks for the ride," she said with that same excited grin, but she was biting the inside of her cheek to suppress it a bit? Huh, from the short time that I've known Alice, I knew she was excitable and that meant it took very little to make her smile. Fine by me.

"Look, about tomorrow night—" I began, obviously not wanting her to be pressured into going.

"Yeah," her voice trailed off, waiting for me to continue, but I hoped she would've given an answer already. I hate awkward moments with girls.

With Maria I totally knew what was going on in her head and if I didn't, she'd verbally smack me until I got it right. With all the other women after Maria, it was a pretty mutual thought: that was fun, but I'm done; thanks for the ride.

Alice was so much more complicated than that. One moment I was completely confident that she dug me and the next moment, I was a prepubescent self-conscious loner teen with acne and a crush on the prom queen.

Brace yourself, Jasper.

"You don't have to go," I said, digging my hands into my pockets and shuffling my feet. I looked down and avoided those know-it-all doe eyes. "In fact, this is me warning you not to go. I already owe you for today, I don't—"

"You don't want to owe me again?" she asked with a giggle. Fuck, this wasn't coming out right. And how the hell did she finish my sentence. I swear, man, this girl's in my head and I don't like it—alright, maybe I do.

"I'll owe you a hell of a lot more if you go to this party tomorrow," I tried to sound convincing, but when I glanced up, her smile didn't go away.

"You're dramatic."

"You're naïve."

"I don't think your family is that horrible. I mean, you and Rosalie seem perfectly fine," she said, leaning against the building.

"Well you're very sweet, but you've been warned." I just called her sweet and although it was meant to be sarcastic and just to push the argument along, it sounded anything but unconvincing.

There was a long pause before she finally answered.

"What time is it?"

"Uh, I don't—" I dumbly searched for a watch that I didn't have.

"No, Jazz, tomorrow night." _Jazz?_ "What time is the party tomorrow night?" I think if anyone else called me 'Jazz' I would kick them where it hurts, but for Alice to—goddamn it, I was in too deep already.

"Five," I answered immediately after my daze following her nickname.

"Should I bring a gift?"

"No."

"Forget it, of course I have to bring a gift," she was talking more to herself. I was too euphoric to answer. "What kind of wine do they like?"

"Uh—I don't know," I was being honest.

"Never mind, I'll go with champagne." She looked down, sifting through her brain for more questions as I stood there happy that I heard her give me a nickname and even more happy that she complied to go with me to this nightmare of a party without any pain involved—on my end—for now…

"You don't have to do this," I managed to be somewhat coherent.

"I want to," Alice replied with a sincere smile.

We both stared at each other for what felt like too long. And then one of us blinked and looked away, stopping the hazy Edward-Bella feeling we both had.

I liked Alice, I wanted to see something happen there, but I wasn't sure I'd be too good at that. After a little over a year of being the hard-ass with the motto "there's no such thing as love," I doubted I could do the whole commitment thing again.

Maybe for a girl that calls me Jazz…

"What time should I meet you tomorrow?" she asked, her voice hoarse. She cleared her throat and glanced out to the street, avoiding eye contact and sparing me for once.

"Uh, it's at five, takes an hour to get there, but I normally go—" I love going late to these things. Last year I went with Peter and slipped in the back halfway through cocktails. My mom didn't know I was there until dinner. Maria's sister was all over Peter—as hands-off as possible—and we left early. It was okay-painful, not completely painless, but kind of.

"One word of advice," Alice began with a light-condescending smirk. "If you're bringing a girl to your parents house for the first time, you never arrive fashionably late, always early or on time."

"That was more than one word," I quipped. She stuck her tongue out at me, but I liked how she phrased it as if we were dating…

"I'll pick you up at four?" it was more like a question, but she nodded wordlessly.

Saying goodbye was an awkward occurrence. The first time we had come to that time, I hadn't even spoke really. I was a jackass and walked out. The second time—after our awkward almost-kiss interruption—she walked out as sexy as possible and left me dazed and confused. Now, after a long day of opening up, snarky comments, and more favors, she agreed to meet my parents and had given me a nickname, and I kind of wanted to try that almost-kiss again…

I'm getting sappy, but when a girl plays around with her keys in front of her door, doesn't that mean she wants a kiss too? Ha, thought so.

Just as she stepped forward to man-up and make the move I was stereotypically supposed to make, I moved back. Now's not the time for that.

"I'll pick you up tomorrow."

I know you're all upset with me. _Jasper, why didn't you kiss her? Jasper, why didn't you shove her against the wall and fuck her? _Well, I didn't kiss her because that's too complicated especially before she knows what she's getting herself into. After tomorrow—well, maybe. And I didn't fuck her, pervert, because Alice is not someone to fuck, she is someone to make love to. So there.

_Aw, Jasper, that's so sweet! _I know, baby, I know.

Plus the look on Alice's face was priceless and now I totally fucking knew she was into me. Ha. I win, doe eyes, I fucking win.

I rode the long way home, even though I was already soaked from the rain. I didn't really want to go home yet. I was kind of like those dudes in the crappy romance shows who kiss the girl and then go batshit, breaking out into a huge dance number or singing. Two things wrong with this analogy: I'm not dancing and I didn't kiss her.

All in good time, all in good time…

Ten minutes of aimless riding later, I was taking a hot shower. Fifteen minutes after that, I got a phone call from Alice.

I told you I win.

"What am I supposed to wear?" she asked as soon as I picked up the phone. Definitely not the first thing I expected her to say… I was hoping for something along the lines of, "come back to meeeee!"

Hehehe.

"Uh, pajamas?" I answered immediately, though I wasn't exactly sure of what I was saying or of any logic behind it at all. By now I was already in bed, so I guess my answer was appropriate. I wasn't asleep, but I was getting there. My guitar was next to me, a notebook next to that with scribbles and crinkled pages and lyrics about shit, none about Alice quite made the page yet.

"No, Jazz. Tomorrow, what am I supposed to wear tomorrow?" she growled. There was that _Jazz_-thing again. I kind of liked it better when she was angry and called me by my fresh new nickname. I liked this nickname way too much. Keep it up and I might like it more.

"Oh! Uh, I don't really…" I rolled over and rubbed the heel of my palm into my eyes to wake myself up a bit. "Why are you asking me this?"

"What are you wearing?" she ignored my last comment. Couldn't she call Bella for fashion advice? Wait—what was I saying? "I don't want to clash."

"Christ, I don't know," I was being honest here.

"What's Rosalie going to wear?"

"Her birthday suit." She wasn't amused. I pouted; that was a good one. Time for more seriousness, I guess.

"Uh, it's formal, but not too formal. I get away with jeans because they're just glad I show up," I thought for a minute, going back to former Whitlock parties.

Rosalie always dresses impeccably. Nice vocab, Whitlock! Well, I _did _go through half a semester of university... Moving on.

Maria wore slutty dresses just to cheer me up during and after a night with my parents, but I definitely didn't want to tell Alice to wear next to nothing to my parents' house. Maria wore that on her own accord and I never argued.

Peter wore a horrible Christmas tree sweater that had pompoms, bedazzled ornaments, and jingle bells all over it. It was actually pretty funny when he threw up all over the front of his—I should be focusing on what the girls wore, right?

"Do you just want Rosalie's number?" I asked, kind of defeated and pretty bummed that I couldn't help. "I think she'll be better help than me."

"No, I'm just—I'll figure something out," she said with a heavy exaggerated and unnecessary sigh before there was a long pause.

"You can still back out," I suggested after two minutes of me listening to her sifting through her closet. "Especially now that it's over the phone. Rosalie will care for oh, about three seconds before I hand her a mirror and then she'll be distracted enough to forgive you later."

"You're cruel," she said with a smile in her voice.

"I cheered you up! Score for Jasper," I tried to lighten the mood and by her laugh, I guess it worked.

"So a cocktail dress is okay?" she asked, still nervous about this shit. In a way, I thought it was cute, but like I said, I got away with going in jeans and bringing my alcoholic friend last year, so I don't see the big deal.

"Yep." Then again, I liked to think that she called cause she missed me and not because she had a fashion crisis. Yeah, that sounds good. If anyone asked, she missed the sound of my voice. Ha! I keep getting better. That sounds just feminine enough to be Alice and desperate enough to be coming from me. I present to you sarcasm, ladies and gents.

"Don't wear green," she sounded grave like someone fucking died. What is up with women and clothes? Rosalie sounded as if she were about to tell me that someone had been murdered when she told me about the wedding dilemma. I don't get women… sometimes.

I swallowed a laugh to say the next thing as seriously as I could muster.

"Now that throws off my whole outfit," she didn't find this funny either. I groaned. "I'm kidding, Alice."

"I'm wearing blue, so wear—"

"You're picking out my outfit now?" I asked with a laugh. Apparently I didn't know what I was getting myself into.

"You can't wear anything that will clash!" she argued. Was this real a dire issue? No, but this was really entertaining.

"You don't know anything I own!" I said with a laugh. "I won't wear anything that will clash," I replied confidently, though who knows what she'll do tomorrow if I go to pick her up in polka dots and pinstripes and a zebra bow tie. Ha, I may just dip into Edward's closet and…

"How do I know you won't?"

"Because Rosalie dressed me up for tea parties since I was three," I said with a smirk. "I've been through hell if I wear something wrong."

"Tea parties? Oh my God, do I get to see baby pictures tomorrow?" Alice giggled and I smacked my palm against my forehead. Again with the thinking before I speak thing… Ugh.

"Goodnight, Alice," I answered in monotone.

"Night, Jazzy!"

I hung up and sat in bed like a lovesick fool. She called me Jazzy… Fuck, I'm as whipped as Edward.

* * *

**A/N: **This is really a filler to get Alice invited to the Whitlock party and to just expand a bit on Jasper's attraction and some Jalice chemistry. I tried to add some extra fluff to make this a little less boring. What else can I say... Here are some excuses for why I didn't get this posted sooner: I got sick, the holidays, family visits, my mom got sick, I had writer's block, I wrote a complete other chapter where I lost Jasper's snarkiness somewhere in the first 'what the fuck.'

What to leave in the reviews: Love, of course, but also what you think should happen in the next chapter? I may put a flashback of Maria/Jasper stuff just because 100 Monkey's _Kolpix _fits their dynamic so well, or I may just continue into the family party. Do you think anyone will like her other than Rosalie? How do you think Maria will react? And although it wasn't answered in this chapter, what do you think Alice has planned for Jasper to repay her for working on her day off? Are you stumped?

Thanks for reading!


	6. Go To Hell

**A/N: **Sorry this took a bit and I don't think this is my best either. Anyhoo, enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **The song mentioned is _Go To Hell _by Spencer Bell. The plot belongs to me. The characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Happy reading.

* * *

**Go To Hell**

I knew the day was a little off when my eyes were already open before my alarm went off. When the fuck does that ever happen?

I closed up shop at two, though I didn't need two hours to get ready. I was ready before three, taking Alice's humorous advice to heart and wearing something that would be… right. I still wore jeans, but ones without any wear or tear with the only pair of boots that weren't completely shot. Gray sweater was a given—again, no holes, completely neutral and appropriate? That sounds like a good word. I know it sounds like I didn't put much effort into it, but I actually methodically picked out an outfit… don't judge.

I gave myself the heebie-jeebies knowing that I was almost trying to impress my parents—? I was bringing a nice girl over, trying to dress suitably—without an actual suit; forgive the pun—for once.

If our—nay, _my_ end of the twin telepathy had healed itself, then I know Rosalie mentioned Alice to my parents yesterday or this morning before stopping by. Who knows what they'll say…

I debated calling Edward to see if borrowing the car was okay, but I had paid half, so technically—A little background, please: Edward and I bought a classical black Mercedes when we were barely nineteen in order to pick up some chicks. It worked, they thought we were badass rich snobbish bastards and who doesn't want to mooch off that?

But once Eddie started dating Bella, the Mercedes was used more and more. Now that tonight was suddenly serious and I was carefully planning every detail, the vehicle—well I couldn't just get Alice on my bike in a cocktail dress. I wasn't wearing the cocktail dress, Alice was—Don't take anything too seriously; my mind was a jittery mess and my grammar must suffer.

After lying on my couch and staring at the ceiling for an hour, I grabbed the Mercedes keys from the kitchen hook, my coat, my deteriorating ego off the floor, and began the night of hell.

When I parked outside of the apartment complex, I got out of the car without second thought. I went up the stairs rather than the elevator, trying to waste time and calm the fuck down. It didn't work; when I got to her apartment my palms were sweaty and I was shaking and out of breath and weirdly on the verge of a panic attack. May we return to my earlier analogy of a prepubescent self-conscious loner teen with acne going on a date with the prom queen?

I knocked on the doorframe in a spastic rhythm and shuffled my feet, looking around the hallway at nothing in particular. The door opened and I looked up just to strengthen the analogy.

Blue dress—somehow sexier than a red dress—black stockings, stilettos making her somewhat closer to my height, but yet still not quite. Her hair was in messy and yet perfectly placed curls. I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from saying or doing anything that would—well…

I met her gaze and it was—angry?

"You're early," she complained.

"I, uh—sorry, didn't you _want _me early?"

"Wrong answer," she said, turning her back on me and walking back into the apartment. She waved for me to follow. I did and shut the door behind me. "'Alice, you look amazing,' was the correct answer. Sorry, Jazz, you should've used one of your lifelines."

There's that damn nickname again.

She was over by the couch, moving pillows around to find whatever she was looking for. I approached her with random confidence, taking her hand and tugging her away. I held her arm above her head and twirled her around, stepping back, holding her at arms length, and sealing the deal with an earnest compliment.

"You look lovely," I amended, meeting her deceptive doe eyes.

For a second I saw her façade falter, a little smile tug at her lips—and not a devious smirk, but a sincere, genuine smile. She was flattered and she totally dug me. The aggravation was totally because she was nervous just like me. Thank the fucking lord.

And then as soon as it began, it was gone and her eyes narrowed. She squeezed my hand before letting it fall. "You're good," she replied with a smirk.

Turning back away from me to toss a few pillows aside, she grabbed her cell phone from in between the couch cushions. She crossed the room to grab her—Jesus, not leather again—black leather coat, bottle of champagne, and keys before going to the front door. I went out first and headed toward the stairs, but once she locked the door, she not so kindly informed me that heels and stairs don't mix and the elevator was the way to go.

To say that she was not expecting the Mercedes was an understatement. To say that she didn't expect the story behind why Edward and I bought the car would be an outright lie.

I drove in silence, still on edge and now going through the night in my head. Who I would have to introduce, when I would first see my parents and if—no, _when_ they spoke to or about Alice in front of her.

I hoped that Rosalie would be there, saving Alice from any company that would harass her. I could handle my parents pulling anything and everything I knew they could. The only girl they had liked was Maria and—

Fuck, I almost forgot about Maria. What would she do? What would she say? Nothing I couldn't—I had way too much baggage and I guess I had made the right decision to put it all out there before I made a move.

God damnit, I am so fucking weak! I wanted to invite Alice from the first moment I saw her just to get Maria to shut up and now I'm worried about what Maria will say? Fuck it, I'm worried about not being able to keep Alice around after tonight.

Alice was one of those girls that was—I can't even begin to describe. Bella was right; I _did _start to think sappy shit. This sucks.

"You look nervous," she spoke about halfway through the drive. I bit the inside of my cheek and smirked a bit.

"That obvious, huh?" I scoffed and Alice remained silent for a moment or two.

"I don't really understand how bad it can be," she murmured.

"Look, are you _absolutely _sure?" I asked one final time. "I like you; I like how things are going and I don't want to screw shit up and trust me, this is a great way to screw things up. Everything my parents say is uncensored and—" I could just imagine them comparing her and Maria, Maria joining in on the game… This was a bad idea.

"You like me?" Oh shit. Everything I say is uncensored, too, apparently.

_Oh, Jazz, is it like-like or just like? _Shut up.

"No I hate your company, that's why you're tagging along," I shot back with sarcasm, trying to recover. Alice smiled and glanced out the window. The rest of the ride went on in silence.

The next time she spoke, I jumped at how fucking loud she was. She was way too excitable.

"This place is huge!" Alice gasped as I pulled into the driveway.

True, the mansion was just a little bit of what mommy and daddy owned, but forty-six acres is quite a chunk of it. It was made entirely of stone, the shingles a mahogany color.

"This is the garage," I muttered, not in an arrogant way, but in an unenthused 'welcome home.'

"Whoa," she whispered in astonishment. I sighed.

I pulled the keys out of the ignition and hopped out of the car, going around to open her door the rest of the way and offered a hand to help her out. She laced her fingers with mine, not letting go, but she spun around as much as she could, looking all around the property.

"You lived here?" she asked incredulously, reluctantly being tugged along behind me as I tried to get her to the front of the house. I just nodded, still too nervous over what the hell I got her into.

"All of this is your parents property?" she asked, as we walked along the wooded area down a path to the front door.

"All forty-six acres," that ought to shut her up. She whistled low, thankfully getting the picture and ending the conversation. Suddenly, Alice clung to my upper arm, her hand still clutched with mine.

"Relax," she whispered as we walked onto the front porch. She squeezed my hand for the second time that night and definitely calmed a few nerves.

"Last time to back out," I added, hopefully.

"Nope," she replied with a smirk.

"Fine, but I _will _say 'I told you so' at the end of tonight," I quipped.

She rang the doorbell and oddly didn't take the opportunity to take advantage of how weak I was with some sarcastic remarks. I'm telling you, this girl was close to perfect.

The door swung open and Rosalie greeted us with a heavy dramatic sigh of relief. "Thank _god,_" she groaned, taking my hand and tugging me inside, thus bringing Alice in too. She shut the door behind us and waved the maid over.

"Emmett has been stuck playing chess with dad, leaving me alone to mingle with Thing One and Thing Two," she practically tore off my coat to hand to mom's third maid of the week.

"Ah, so Lucy and Nettie are here," I immediately recognized the nickname. I knew Maria's sisters would have come, but I can be an optimistic person a small fraction of the time and for that bit of time I thought that

"You have to help Em," Rose pleaded. We both knew why; Emmett wasn't that—Emmett was a horrible chess player. Wrestling, board games, mindless shit he could handle, but chess was my father's specialty and who wasn't intimidated by the old man?

"How long has he been at it?" I asked, not really wanting to leave Alice right away.

"Half hour." Okay, I have to leave Alice right away.

"Keep Alice away from dysfunction and I'll set Emmett free, okay?" Rose nodded seriously and Alice smiled at the severity of everything. She had no idea.

I crossed the foyer to go to dad's study at the end of the hall. The door was open and my father was in discussion, trying to distract Emmett, although we all know any of us could beat Emmett without cheating.

"Check." Poor Emmett looked like he was just about ready to piss his pants.

"Sorry to interrupt," I began, stepping further into the room. My lovely father didn't even look up to acknowledge me. Emmett looked like I had just given him a second chance at life. "Rose was looking for you." Emmett turned back to the game and the to me with wide eyes. "I'll take over the game." What the fuck did I just agree to?

Pause. Have you noticed I've been a better brother since Alice? Yeah… me too… Un-pause.

"Mustn't keep Rosalie waiting," my father spoke, still not looking up from the board. That was Emmett's cue to leave. He stood up and clasped his hand on my shoulder.

"Thank you," he mouthed. I shrugged and motioned toward the door, stepping away so he could leave. Be free, goofy bastard.

That's said with love, by the way.

I took Emmett's place and settled into the horrible position my side of the board was in. Ugh.

"Nice to see you again, Jasper." Here's the thing about my dad. Not only does he speak to me like we're just acquaintances, not father and son, but his voice is as menacing as Hannibal Lecter. I've grown immune to the goose bump feelings when I was thirteen.

"And you," I moved the last pawn Emmett had managed to salvage and knocked over his bishop. We still didn't make eye contact and I believed it was better that way.

"Still in that punk band of yours?" Here's when things get tricky.

"It's not a punk band," I gritted my teeth as he knocked away the only knight I had left.

"What about that record shop of yours? You can't be making good business nowadays with the Internet and—" I made a few moves in my head, cornering the king wouldn't be easy, but it could work.

"There are a lot of old school musicians, people with collections that aren't complete, or people who just want a good record," my bishop advanced on his queen. "We're doing pretty good, actually."

A small pause in the conversation ensued; he needed to collect himself. Every comment we would make would be passive aggressive until he normally cracked and began yelling. Since more than just our immediate family was in the house, he needed to contain himself.

"I hear you brought us a guest tonight," he took away my bishop. Ouch.

I nodded, wordlessly, now hesitantly taking my queen away from the king to hit his too-close-for-comfort pawn.

"I've only heard good things of her, and from Rosalie of all people," he continued, making a stupid move resulting in my taking one of his knights with my queen. Ha, I'm winning the game, but definitely not the conversation.

"Are you saying you're happy for me or building up to whatever you had planned to ask me tonight?" Another stupid move and now he was looking up at me. I kept my eyes at the board, going through the next steps to checkmating his ass.

"Your mother has brought up the issue of retirement to me," here we go. "Now you know I love your mother," bull shit, "and you know her dream of moving back home to Galveston. Right now with the money we have we can make that happen and so—"

"Check," I interrupted.

"Forget the game for a second, I'm speaking to you," we were getting to the point of raising voices. Great. Time to wrap this up.

"I know what you're going to say," I said, pushing back from the board to finally make eye contact. Thank god I had my mother's eyes or looking at him would make me sick to my stomach. "You don't want to give Moreno the company. Great, but I'm not taking it."

"Think of your future, Jasper!" The Chopin mix tape I had given my mother last Christmas, which was blaring in the living room, was turned up a bit more. "You had such great potential when you were younger. Think about it: engaged to a wonderful girl who will drop everything and stand by your side as you oversee the company and—"

Notice how he said _will _drop everything. Everyone expects me to give in and marry Maria. Fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Make the next move," I shook my head, ignoring the life he and my mother had planned out for me. Cool, not what I had in mind and not what's going to fucking happen.

"You have three months to decide," he began with a heavy sigh, settling back into the game and barely making a premeditated move. "Drop the rock band, the alcoholic friends, the motorcycle, the whore of the week and—"

"You didn't even fucking meet her," I stood up from the game and glared at him. The party seemed to get a bit quieter from my outburst.

He can put life plans and aspirations in my face, but when he called Alice the whore of the week, I wanted to graciously give him a fat lip. Merry Christmas, daddy.

"Keep your voice down, for Christ's sake."

"Thanks for the talk, _dad_," I sneered, "but I like how my life's going right now." I pushed my chair in and walked to the door, but turned back around with a smirk.

"By the way," I approached the board and knocked over his queen with my own, thus cornering the king. "Checkmate."

I left the room, leaving the door wide open behind me. I knew my mom hadn't seen me yet and although she was made at me last time I was here, she normally pretended that nothing ever happened. Slamming doors would not get me anywhere tonight.

I went into the living room to see Rosalie and Emmett off on their own. Where the fuck was Alice?

"Hey, are you okay?" Alice came up behind me, putting a hand on my shoulder and squeezing gently.

"Five minutes and everyone definitely knows I'm here," I grumbled, taking her hand from my shoulder and moving her so she was standing in front of me. "Fine, thanks. How long have you been left alone?" I asked, wondering if I should continue the yelling spree on Rosalie, too.

"Two seconds," she said with a giggle. "Emmett sends his gratitude."

"Ah, so you met Emmett," I said with a smile, but our conversation was cut short.

"_There _you are!" I knew that voice anywhere.

My Aunt Maggie had practically raised me. When my parents went on business trips and shit, they'd call my mother's sister to come and watch "the demon children." I think that she loves us more than our parents do, but I digress.

Anyway, Maggie went through similar shit and was emotionally there for me after the Maria crap blew up. Good ol' Uncle Liam left her after nine years of marriage for someone older. Can you call a man a gold-digger? I just did.

"No phone calls, no letters," Maggie complained, pulling me in for a hug and rocking me back and forth. "Three months and no word! I'm lucky Rosalie bothered to call and at least tell me you were still alive!"

"I'm sorry," and I truly was, but my muffled voice was unconvincing.

After a good smothering from auntie, she pulled back and looked at Alice beside me, narrowing her eyes. "And the impeccably dressed must be Alice?" Christ, did Rose tell everyone?

"I'm this smart ass' Aunt Maggie," she smacked my shoulder and Alice smiled, glancing over at me before looking back and offering her hand.

"It's nice to meet you," Alice said with a polite handshake. She might as well have curtsied. Maggie paused, glancing back at me and smirked.

"She's good," she nodded in approval. "How have you liked the evening thus far? I know we've all enjoyed our bit of Whitlock men shouting—"

"I haven't been here long," Alice interrupted. She was good… "Ten minutes or so," she shrugged.

"She's only been in Emmett's company," I said with a smile.

"Well, that's enough company for the night!" Maggie laughed. "I just got here myself. I guess I should make the rounds, huh?" she rubbed my arm as she walked by, heading toward Emmett and Rosalie. "I'll be seeing you again, the guests aren't into my kind of entertainment."

She stopped quickly, turning around. "Speaking of entertainment, you should cut this classical crap and play some of your stuff. The piano is calling your name!" she teased in singsong. She would always make me play the piano whenever she would babysit, having me sit there for hours, excusing my naptimes and let me stay up later only if I would pay her another bit of the twenty-first century pieces I had accumulated.

Maggie grinned. "Rosalie! Darling!"

"Ooh," Alice nudged me. I looked down at her and she smiled. "I like her," we both smiled.

"Doesn't everyone?" I smirked, taking Alice's hand and bringing her over to the baby grand piano in the next room. Alice looked up, staring at the ceiling rather than where she was going.

I slid onto the bench as the mix tape ended and just dull static came from the speakers. Alice slid in beside me, finally breaking from her fascination with the ceiling, smiling and plucking a few notes. "May I?" she asked, leaning against me and batting her eyelashes.

I shrugged and off she went, clunking out the childish beginnings of Chopsticks before transforming into a reincarnation Liberace himself and making me speechless. I didn't know she played the piano—correction! I didn't know she kicked ass when it came to the piano.

Her small hands ran up and down the keys, crossing over my lap to get the lower octaves occasionally. Not quite as loud as Liberace, for I think she was possibly nervous. Still, the music exploded and all voices either died off or stopped completely.

I didn't look up, but merely followed each effortless move and flick of her wrist. It settled on one final chord and she lifted her hands quickly, the pedal sustaining the sounds.

"Chopsticks?" I asked with a laugh.

"I love Chopsticks!" she defended with a giggle.

"Yeah, you and no one else," I teased.

"That's what Edward said," she pouted.

"You have been holding out on me. You never told me you were kick ass at the piano."

"You never asked," she stuck her tongue out at me.

All conversations continued and everything seemed to go back to normal except for the slow claps came from behind us.

"Jasper, it's rude to show-off."

Fuck… I knew this moment would come, but I had hoped over dinner or sometime in the not-so-near-future.

"That was all Alice," I replied, getting up from the bench to meet the gaze of Miss. Red Dress herself.

Maria glanced over at Alice, looking her up and down. "I was wondering if you were even going to show up tonight. You were so sick last time I saw you."

Ha, is that the excuse mom used?

"Alice, Maria," I introduced them awkwardly. Alice got up from the stool, smoothing her dress out and standing beside me, a little closer than before. I didn't introduce Maria to Alice, however.

"Huh, you must have heard so much about me already, but I've heard nothing of you," Maria shifted her weight to one foot with a hand on her hip. "I'm sure Jasper just forgot to mention a new friend."

"Actually, I've heard nothing about you," Alice didn't lie. I hadn't spoken of Maria once. Still Alice said it was more of a catty comeback than how Maria had actually wanted her to react.

Maria looked her up and down a bit more before turning her attention to me. "Your father just went in the kitchen looking rather upset. He said you two had a misunderstanding. Is everything all right?" Everything's dandy.

"Yep." She pursed her lips at my quick response.

Alice grabbed my hand and tugged at it. "Jazz," she whined. "You were going to show me your room."

"Jazz?" Maria questioned with a smirk. "Cute."

"Isn't it?" Alice beamed. "Sorry to cut things short, Maria. It was nice meeting you."

"See you later, _Jazz_," Maria replied as Alice tugged me out of the room.

I led her up the stairs and into my old bedroom in silence before shutting the door behind me. Alice crossed the room to sit on my twin-sized mattress before rightfully demanding:

"Explanations start now."

Here we go.

* * *

**A/N: **I was going to continue, but I wanted to post this tonight and leave you with some kind of cliff-hanger. This party scene may end up being three chapters, because I want to include more Rosalie and Emmett, more Maria drama, a flashback, and then of course, the epic dinner that is all mapped out in my head. I'm getting ahead of myself! I also don't know when this is going to end or how I am going to end it. I'm not planning too far in advance.

I like how Alice kind of stepped out of her shell and wrote for herself in these last few chapters. In chapter one and two, she was definitely bland. -Pats self on back- Really, the characters kind of write for themselves. This chapter hasn't shut up for a while.

Happy end to midterms week for you high schoolers!

And finally, question(s) for the comments: What do you think will happen next (specifically with Alice v. Maria and Jasper v. his parents)?

Reviews are always welcome and make me write faster! Thanks for reading!


	7. Kolpix

**A/N: **Sorry it took so long. Lack of inspiration, procrastination, blah, blah, excuses. Enjoy.

**Disclaimer: **The songs mentioned are _Kolpix _and _Wandering Mind_ by 100 Monkeys. The plot belongs to me. The characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Happy reading.

* * *

**Kolpix **

God, how do I even begin?

I looked over at Alice to see if I could maybe charm my way out of this one. Nope, doe eyes seemed serious this time. Rightfully so, I mean I hadn't exactly mentioned Maria—ever. But aren't you not supposed to mention your exes?

All right, I'm not getting out of this one.

"_About a year ago…" _my voice was quivering. Get a fucking grip, Whitlock.

I cleared my throat and explained—as best I could—who Maria was. My explanation eventually turned into a summary of the worst night of my life; the one anecdote that would sum up whatever the fuck Maria and I had, but I simplified it in the most efficient Reader's Digest version.

Here goes…

It was yet another one of those days when I would sneak out of my parents' house early and head on over to one of my gigs, praying to the god I didn't believe in that Peter would be sober—for once. But today was different. Today I'd be announcing the one thing I knew would make my parents happy.

Yes, for the first time in my twenty-something years of living, I would finally gain some approval. I was engaged to Maria Moreno, my dad's business partner's daughter. Mind you, Moreno was a jackass and an idiot when it came to business deals, but it was set so that I could join the Whitlock Company and overshoot Moreno, stealing his promotion and not having any legal matters to deal with because it was then a family issue.

I wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of selling out, going to work for my father's company, etc. But the marriage part of this deal was definitely the easiest part.

Maria was not—for lack of a better phrase—_a lady_. She wouldn't be into the whole idea of a huge wedding, would probably elope—and so long as we were married, my parents didn't seem to care—so we were both thinking Vegas. Maria was hot and a bitch and who doesn't love that when you're young?

The night before, Maria told me she had been visiting her sisters, who were in town, and she was going to stay over in their hotel room for the night to talk about nails and clothes and guys, isn't that what girls talk about?

Anyways, I told Maria I would meet her at my parents house, cause she was going to spend the whole night and most of the day with them. She agreed and at six on the dot, I was at my parents' house.

Rose opened the door, her eyes squinting in confusion. "When are you ever on time?" she speculated.

Side note—I hadn't _exactly _told Rose about my engagement… Her and Maria hadn't exactly gotten along well in the past—they had a screaming match the last time they were together—and I was kind of afraid of what she'd say, but I was happy—for the most part.

"Nice to see you, too, sis," I shot back, my nerves kind of making me snippy. I was on edge and desperately needed my nicotine fix.

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I jumped, fishing it out of my pocket, expecting a text from Maria. Nope, just Edward. _Show is 8 not 9. Told u _

_Jerk_ was all I wrote back.

"Rosalie, shut the door, you're letting the cold in," mom came rushing to the door, pulling me inside with a big hug.

Another side note—no matter what my feelings are toward my mother now, who doesn't love a bear hug from their mom? Exactly.

My mom pulled back abruptly, looking over my shoulder, then back at me.

"You're alone," she noted, looking again to make sure she wasn't just hallucinating.

"Yep," I shrugged off my coat, shaking the rain off it and scattering water everywhere. My mom was too dazed and frantic to mind.

"Why are you alone; where's Maria?" she was fucking frantic.

"Relax, ma. She's coming a little later."

But she didn't. Two hours passed. We started dinner without her—which was a hassle in itself to convince my mom to do. I got up from the table a few times to call her. She didn't pick up. I wasn't worried so much as annoyed.

Her sisters were bitches and hated me so they probably pressured her into going shopping or something and blew off the dinner. I knew she'd make it up to my parents, but this wasn't just a normal dinner. We were announcing our engagement, the one thing I hadn't been so thrilled about, but it came with my plan for growing up.

Just as a little side note, I was a rebellious teen. Yeah, my parents threatened military school, and yeah I flunked out of college, but around this time my rock star dream was coming to an end and I kind of gave up. I was moving on, selling out, call it what you will, but the hardest night of my life was tonight. I was letting my parents win.

I was telling them, "You were right all along! I'm doing what you told me; what I said I'd never do! I'm marrying the girl you want, taking over the family company, living the life you want me to live." The one night I fucking needed Maria at my side and she wasn't there.

But I didn't just need her for the dinner so much as the gig afterwards. It was the biggest night for the band, too. We were playing at the hottest nightclub in Portland, The Equinox. It took us a year just to get a gig there and it'd be nice to have my fucking fiancé there to cheer me on or take the edge off.

An hour before the gig, I was getting ready to leave. My dad left the table and went back to his study, not wanting to hear the whole "punk band crap," and I ignored him, saying goodbye to my mom. Rose walked me out.

"What was the big news tonight?" she asked as I checked my phone again for a missed call I wouldn't have.

"Huh?"

"You had some news you wanted to drop on mom and dad," she folded her arms over her chest and leaned against the side of the Mercedes. "Spill." She knew me too well.

I sighed, unlocking the car and opening up the driver's side door. Refusing to make eye contact, I told her the news. "We're engaged."

She didn't congratulate me. She read right through the bullshit. "You seem so enthused."

"She fucking blew me off."

"She's with her sisters, right?"

"Who the fuck knows?" Whoa—since when did I think otherwise? But now that I think about it, her being with someone other than her sisters makes sense. Would it really be that shocking? It's Maria for fuck's sake.

There was a pause and Rose sighed as I started the car, leaving the door open.

"Feel like I gotta ask, but I know what you'll say—you need to talk about it?"

"Nope," I replied, shutting the door. I waited, turning the radio knob and flipping through the static to find a decent station—that didn't exist—as Rose contemplated what to say to make me feel better.

"Could you just listen for a second?" she asked, her voice muffled as she tapped on my closed window. I rolled it down, but still didn't look her in the eye. "Don't do this for them, do this for you."

"Life's not going anywhere, it's what I have to do." I was sounding like my fucking father.

"That's bullshit and you know it," I did know it. "You're fucking talented as hell and you know you can make a living doing what you love. You won't be as comfortable as mommy and daddy, but fuck it."

I put the car in reverse, but held onto the brake. Rosalie scrambled to say more, but she said enough.

"You're compromising and you don't have to."

I waited until she stepped away from the car so I didn't run over her thousand-dollar stilettos before I sped the hell out of there. My phone was buzzing the whole way to The Equinox. No doubt it was Edward asking where the hell I was. I ignored it and kept going.

I didn't go to greet my unnamed band, just went to the back of the nightclub toward the bar and slumped down on the barstool. I was early, I was pissed, I was having lady problems, and I was in the hottest club in the city. I was going to get drunk.

"Rough night, Jasper?" I knew the bartender, James. He was a fake as fuck.

Side note: there was something behind that concerned look on his face that I should've fucking saw before I trusted him, but I didn't cause I was a nice motherfucker.

"Can you give me a bottle of whiskey," I scanned the back shelf. "And maybe that bottle of Vodka?" I pointed with a delirious grin. This would be a fun night.

Edward found me about thirty minutes later, spinning aimlessly around my chair.

"What the _fuck_?" He gripped my shoulders to steady me and glared with that I'm-better-than-you glare that parents give you before your ass is grounded.

"Jasper, we've been looking everywhere for you—" Peter just popped up behind Edward, his eyes widening and voice dying off at the sight of their hammered front man on the biggest night of their life.

"Well you obviously didn't look very hard," I slurred with a hiccup. "Or I am a very good hide-and-seek-er, er, er," I closed my eyes and leaned forward, grinning like an idiot.

"You're fucking drunk!" Edward groaned. "You're such a jack ass, I can't even—Who gave you the booze?"

"Jimmy-boy!" I called, looking down the bar to thank James for the free alcohol, but he was nowhere to be found. I shrugged, humming "Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall".

"I guess we can just go up there without him?" Peter suggested. He was a nervous bastard before Charlotte and the booze. I blame myself for both remedies.

"Who's gonna sing?" Edward was yelling now.

"Relax, relax—" I stumbled to my feet, wrapping my arms around Peter and Edward's shoulders to keep myself up. "You know that song we rehearsed yesterday? We play a little of that and we're good. Trust me, guys."

Edward and Peter looked at each other, weighing their options—which were let me sing or give up the greatest opportunity we had.

"Don't screw this up more than you already have," Edward grunted, slipping away from us and leaving us to go backstage to set up.

"Aye-aye, el capitan!"

Looking back, I'm not a good drunk.

Moving on…

Eventually someone got me up on stage in front of the microphone with my bass strapped over my shoulders. Edward announced our name—which only he agreed to, but I was too drunk to argue—and the first heavy chords ground out.

I was sober enough to get my kick ass lyrics right. The bass could use a little work, though…

"You were always in control, you were never out of hand, you were so damn perfect, it was hard to understand," I growled into the microphone, moving like a spaz around the stage, but not caring.

The song was going pretty well. Edward and Peter had as much energy as I had alcohol destroying my liver. We sounded kick ass at the chorus. "Mine is a wandering mind, is a wandering mind, is a wandering mind…"

"Now you're talking like a man who's been walking the streets, less your freak on that hot concrete," the rest of that verse was a slurred mess, but it worked for the heavy rock emotion of the song—right?

"So I think you 'ought to know, that I never held your hand. You were always in control and I'll never understand." Edward was rocking it on keyboards and Peter tried to cover up my hiccups with louder drum solos.

We rocked the chorus until my last verse where I barked out the lyrics. "You were always in control, you were never out of hand, you were so damn perfect, it was hard to understand!" Edward took up a pretty awesome keyboard solo and the rest of the set was a blur.

I remember waking up in the alleyway with my head in a bucket and the smell of puke burning my nostrils. Edward was next to me; Peter was pacing in front of me smoking a cigarette. I groaned, whining like a baby for a nicotine fix—not that a baby needed—you get what I mean.

"He lives!" Edward clapped next to me, but I interrupted his celebration with another upchuck. "Somewhat," he corrected.

I groaned, leaning my head back against the cold brick, my matted damp hair clinging to the rough surface. I shivered and closed my eyes trying to fight the nausea. "Can you bring me to the Plaza?" I hiccupped, my voice shaking.

"You sure you want to see Maria when you're—"

"Are you going to take me or not?" He sighed and there were a few beats of silence before I heard Edward get up.

He did end up bringing me there and I knew finding Maria's sisters' room would be ridiculous, but after charming, failing, and begging the concierge, I told her my name and she immediately gave me the floor and room number. I took the elevator, not trusting myself on the stairs in this drunken stupor—I'd give myself kudos for vocab, but now's not the time…

Looking back there are three things I should've known/noticed. The first being that the concierge gave me the room number so easily once I said my name; the next was that Maria was on the top floor; the third being that because it was the first floor that meant expensive and that meant obviously something her sisters wouldn't be able to afford, but something my credit card could.

Of course I was too tipsy and nauseated to think straight.

So I walked to Room 208, knocked on the door in a disjoint rhythm and waited for her to answer.

"Maria," I sang her name. "Open up, sweet cheeks."

I leaned against the wall next to the door, knocking again when she took too long.

"Maria! Come on, babe, time to face the fucking music!" I howled.

I waited another minute before knocking a third time, but my hand missed the door as it opened.

"Fan-fucking-tastic."

"Baby, lower your voice," Maria peaked out of the small opening in the door, hiding her robe-clad bodacious bod. "You're drunk and you're making too much noise; it's one in the fucking morning, Jasper!"

"Can you let me in?" I turned to face her, slipping my foot in between the door and the frame to stop her from locking me out. "We need to talk."

"Can we talk when you're sober?"

"Oh, I don't know, Maria," I raised my voice, knowing that maybe her need to shut me up would win me a free pass inside. She tried to hush me, but I was practically yelling in the hall. "Tonight was the biggest fucking night of my life and my fiancé wasn't there."

Maria tried to shut the door, but I didn't budge. I moved my head so my nose nuzzled with hers. "Move the fuck aside, Maria," I whispered her name endearingly.

She reluctantly opened the door, rubbing the back of her neck and glancing over her shoulder at the bedroom—or what I assumed to be. The pillows were all off the couch, but in a more suspicious way than just a girly pillow fight. The kitchenette was a mess with dishes piled up. The small table had candles with fresh wax dripping down the side.

I followed her gaze to the bedroom, kicking it open and finding clothes strewn all over the place: her red dress pooled on the floor, her lacy thong hanging on the nightstand, and then more unfamiliar clothes. There was a pair of black jeans with an Armani belt slung over the top post of the bed and boxer briefs by the doorway.

"Hey, _baby_," I snarled, whipping around to see Maria stepping back. "Tell me, whose clothes are those?" I took a step toward her and she took another three back. "You can't tell me that nobody knows."

I heard a noise from the other direction and there was a beat. I met Maria's gaze and all the adrenaline and anger sobered me up enough to recognized her scared-shitless expression. I smirked in bitter victory as I followed the noise.

Maria jumped out of her daze, sprinting over to my side and trying to pull me back. I followed the noise to the closet, opening it up to find James cowering in the corner, bare-butt, naked. Without second thought, I was seeing red, anger tunnel vision, and my fist connected with his face and I knocked out a tooth or two.

Return to the present where I was ruining my chances with doe eyes, the coolest chick I've ever met. I didn't make eye contact with her throughout the whole story, so I decided now would be a good time—well it was more "now or never," but you get my drift.

Those doe eyes were deceiving one again. For a second I thought she was sympathetic or empathetic—I never knew the difference. Then I saw betrayal or hurt—I hadn't told her about Maria and that would've been appreciated seeing as she plays a big part in my life, though I don't want her to.

I tried to pull the "don't talk about your exes" rule, but—as much as I hate to admit it—I have fucking issues when it comes to commitment after Maria and Alice has a right to know what she's getting herself into. Plus she had been so nervous in meeting my family, not knowing that no matter how immaculate she seemed, they would always see her as runner up because Maria was first choice.

But then her eyes seemed to be angry and humiliated. They didn't seem as kind and forgiving, as I had first perceived them. Come on, doe eyes; work with me here.

I knew bringing her to my parents house would turn everything to shit.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," I attempted an apology, though it was too late.

Alice opened her mouth to speak, but the knock on the door interrupted her.

Rosalie let herself in, peeking her head in the doorway with a sigh. "Dinner's ready in two. Mom told me to tell you two to come down."

"Could you give us a second?" I asked, calmly though my insides were twisting with tension. I was a nervous wreck. Rose gave me a skeptical look, glanced at Alice's unreadable expression and left us alone, shutting the door behind her.

"We don't need a minute," Alice said, standing up from the bed and crossing the room to go to the door. I grabbed her hand and tugged her lightly back.

"Please, don't do this."

"Do what?" Alice asked, being overly calm. "Look, Jasper, you warned me of the shit that would go down, but I've never been so fucking humiliated."

"I'm sorry," there was no use.

"_I'm _sorry; I'm a little confused," Alice began, smirking cynically. "You invited me to make Maria jealous?"

"No, of course not."

"To prove something to your parents?"

"No, I—"

"Oh, that's right you didn't invite me in the first place. Rosalie did."

"Alice, stop—"

"Just say, 'I told you so'!"

"Stop," I grabbed her shoulders, shaking her gently to get her to look at me. "When I first met you I had the intentions of asking you to come with me tonight for the sole purpose of keeping Maria away, but I didn't ask because after you left the record shop two days ago, I didn't want—"

Fuck, here comes the sappy Jasper. Look away! Take small children out of the room! It's gonna get ugly!

"'Didn't want', what?" she asked, not taking the first half of my apology to well. I dropped my hands from her shoulders in defeat.

"I didn't want to fucking lose you, 'kay? I knew my family would scare you away not to mention the bitch-who-best-not-be-mentioned-again, and I didn't want to ruin anything that we had or might have and—" my voice trailed off as I saw Alice smile a genuine smile.

Wait—what?

"You're a jerk," she said with a giggle.

What the fuck?

"So—?" I was fucking confused.

"So let's go downstairs for dinner," she replied as if it were the obvious response.

"Oh… okay." I dumbly followed her out the door, closing it behind me.

"I'm still mad at you," she added, but somehow I knew she wasn't.

* * *

**A/N: **I'm not giving excuses here (though as a side note, I didn't proofread this, so there's gunna be a helluva lot wrong! my apologies!), I'm gunna mention something I was proud of in this chapter. When I mentioned Maria taking Jasper's credit card and therefore being able to pay for the hotel room, it was inspired by the part in _Kolpix _where Ben Graupner so eloquently croons, "What, did you think I was fucking Santa Clause?" Nioce!

Also, _Wandering Mind _was added in later, but I love Ben Johnson's voice (overall), but especially in that song. I felt like it fit the dynamic and premise of the chapter and I hope you all agree.

So I've got the next few chapter lined up. Next chapter's the dinner sequence, obviously, and then I got a few tricks up my sleeve. What do you think will happen at dinner? What about Jasper and Alice? Give me some of your predictions I love reading them!

Thank you for reading and thanks to all who have patiently waited for this next chapter!

PS there is a banner on my author page for this fic, made my me! Check it out!


	8. Thunderdome

**A/N: **Sorry it took so long, once again! There's a better explanation in "Author's Note II" in my story _LDF_. If you don't want excuses, just enjoy.

**Disclaimer: **The song mentioned is _Thunderdome _by The Stevedores. The plot belongs to me. The characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.

* * *

**Thunderdome**

We stumbled down the stairs in a weird, but somehow giddy air. It was awkward after that heavy conversation. I hate heaviness. I hate dampening the mood not that it had ever been lifted in my parent's house… The giddiness was probably just on my end, though—I was holding her hand.

She played the fucking piano like Liberace. I was untrusting because of the shitty relationship I got out of last. We both learned something today.

When we entered the dining room, everyone was seated, but chatting amongst themselves. The first thing I noticed: there weren't two empty seats next to each other. And so it begins.

There was one seat nestled between Maria and her sister Lucy. Also on that end were my parents and Maria's parents. The second open seat was between Rosalie and my Aunt Maggie. Emmett was on that end, too, with my grandparents, who chose to show up, eat the food, and leave without having more than a one-word conversation with anyone.

If Peter were with me, I'd make him sit with Maria, but this was different.

"Nice of you to join us, Jasper," my mother called from her seat, not making a move to get up. "Please take a seat so we can get started."

Biting back an argument, I just led Alice to the seat by Rosalie. "She claims she didn't know you were bringing a guest," Rose explained quietly.

I pulled out Alice's chair and smiled bitterly. "I bring someone with me every year."

"We'll keep Miss. Alice company down on this end," Maggie leaned over to lighten the situation.

"Oh, no, have Alice come sit by me!" Maria called from the other end of the table.

"Yes, I would love to speak with the talented Miss. Alice," my mother smiled the same devilish smile that Maria had plastered on her face.

"Actually, mom, I have a few wedding things I wanted to discuss with her," Rosalie butted in, trying to save me.

I stood there like an idiot, not knowing what excuse I could use. Great.

"Oh, Rosalie, talk to her after dinner. None of us have had the privilege to speak with the infamous Alice."

God, I fucking hate condescending titles.

I squeezed Alice's hand. I was mumbling incantations in my head to possibly—hopefully—turn my mother mute and perhaps Maria's head would explode in the process. Nah, too messy, how about she just disappears? Better.

"I'll move, Jas—" Lucy began, but Maria kicked her under the table.

"You can't just move everyone around," mom interrupted so I couldn't take the offer. "It's not our fault you two came to the table late."

"Lucy, move," Mr. Moreno spat.

Vincent Moreno was some piece of work. A little background for the viewers at home: he wanted my father's company, obviously, but he knew he wouldn't get it. Even after Maria and I were getting serious—or I was getting serious—he was in some delusional state that if I did take the company, I wouldn't be able to handle it and Maria would convince me to hand it off to him.

The hidden motive there was just to get Maria and I to sit next to each other and possibly rip Alice apart in the process. That, I wouldn't let happen, but regardless...

Lucy silently drew up from her chair and we shuffled to our seats, sitting down in silence. Alice took the seat next to Maria, even though I knew that was a mistake. I went to the other side to sit next to the head of the table—where my father sat.

As soon as we sat down, the doors from the kitchen swung open and the first course was ushered out: the same fucking soup as every year. It was pretty much just broth, but you were expected to have at least a spoonful.

I remember I was stuck at the table finishing all the soup because I had made some snide remark about the chef. Mom made me sit at the table and finish all the soup on the stove. Needless to say, I slept in the dining room that night.

Moving on from my soup anecdote…

"So, Alice," Maria began, catching Alice with a spoon in her mouth. Jesus, could this girl get any cuter? Oh Christ, I'm fucking whipped.

"You're a wedding guru?" here we go.

Alice cleared her throat and shook her head with an always-polite smile. "I'm an event planner," she corrected. "I normally do weddings, though."

"Have you been married before?" Maria pressed.

What the fuck kind of question is—take a deep breath… I decided to keep my mouth shut for this one. Maybe we could get through dinner without an argument.

"Uh, no."

"How do you know so much about weddings, then?"

"Jasper, I hear you're still in that band of yours," Mrs. Moreno butt in so I couldn't hear Alice's response. "Oh my, what was the name of it again?"

"Actually we uh—still don't have a name."

"Oh."

Both conversations died off.

Silence ensued.

Well this is fucking awkward.

The next course came out: standard salad with a few unidentified items that were questionably edible. I'll get some Jack-In-The-Box on the way home.

That's it. I leaned back in my chair and reached out.

"Can I get something a little stronger than water?" I asked a hopeful member of the wait staff.

"Jasper," my mother interrupted with a humorless chuckle. "You know we don't just leave a bottle of wine at the dinner table. If you want a drink of substance, wait until after dinner."

_A drink of substance… _Welcome home, Jasper.

"It's the holidays, mamma, why not celebrate a little, hmm?" I pulled on a little charm, smiling wide and motioning to the guests around us. She didn't buy it though and ignored me to stab a cucumber.

"What if someone makes a toast?" I pressed on.

"A toast?" she questioned, looking up.

"A toast," I agreed and Alice turned her face straight down at her plate to hide the smirk. Got 'cha, doe eyes. I got you.

"Are you going to make a toast?" mom asked incredulously. Nice big words, Jasper. Back to school, back to school, to show my daddy I'm—

"I wasn't, no," I confessed and I got a few chuckles and scoffs from the table. "But if, in the spur of the moment, I happen to want to toast, we'll have to wait for someone to get a bottle of wine, for all the wine to be poured, and by then the reason behind the toast is lost. You can't toast with water!"

"Alright, alright," YES! She motioned for someone behind me to bring out a bottle of wine. She gave in. Maybe I can get through tonight all right after all.

"How is that cassette tape shop going, Jasper?" Mr. Moreno asked.

Remember the whole "Maybe I can get through tonight after all" thing? Yeah, that from two seconds ago! I spoke too soon.

"It's, uh—"

"It's records, daddy," Maria interrupted. "And CDs, too, right?" she looked past Alice to try to make eye contact with me. Think again, bitch.

"A couple CDs, mostly records, though. And it's going good, especially around the holidays. It's nice to know there are still a few—"

"I'm sorry to interrupt…" Mrs. Moreno made her vocal appearance for the night! Everyone, everyone! Golf claps. "But how did you two meet each other?" she motioned between Alice and I as someone popped a cork behind us.

"Ah, yes, I've yet to hear this story!" Maria grinned.

"You know, Jasper didn't even tell me he was bringing a guest tonight, let alone a young woman." Thanks, mom, but I invite someone every fucking year.

Alice glanced over at me to see who was going to take this question.

"A mutual friend introduced us," Alice said, turning back to look at everyone.

"Was it that rude, intoxicated boy, Phillip?" mom asked, concerned.

Rosalie choked back laughter at the other end of the table. I bit the inside of my cheek. I would deal with her later.

"No, it wasn't _Peter_," I corrected.

"Who was it?" Maria asked.

"Bella Swan," Alice replied. I cringed and waited a beat before it all started.

"The poorly dressed one?"

"That girl from college?"

"You know, I thought you had dated her for a while, Jasper."

That last one wasn't a lie. We went on one date and tried, but it was like kissing your sister. We both ended up laughing about it later.

"Where did you two meet?" Lucy piped up from her insecure bubble. She didn't make eye contact, but everyone heard the question and was waiting for the answer.

Fuck, should we lie?

Oh, I met her when I was escorting "Phillip's" drunk ass out of the bar the night I snuck out of the house to go play a gig.

"Aw, guys, don't be shy," Rosalie called from the other end of the table. "Alice told me the story the other day when she was showing me the new venue for my wedding." She did?

"She did?" I asked, looking at Alice, who was blushing and avoided eyes contact with me to glare at Rosalie.

"Hush up, baby bro," Rose scolded, clearing her throat dramatically before beginning. "It was at one of the band's shows. Their eyes met across a smoke-filled bar; it was like in the movies." That was a short story… and kind of cute.

But the cuteness was short-lived and the bullshit continued.

"Rosalie, dear, it's rude to raise your voice at the table," mom replied as if she hadn't heard the story or chose not to.

"You met at a bar?" Maria asked with a smirk. "How—quaint."

"Just like you and James," I mumbled,

"What?"

"Jasper, it's rude to mumble." Thanks, mom.

I refrained from saying anything, leaning back in my chair as one member of mom's wait staff took my plate and another poured me a glass of wine.

"So, Alice," my father spoke and immediately I turned to defense mode.

Maria and my mother were there to humiliate her and made snide comments that were never rude, but were condescending and would slowly break her. My father—well, you'll see.

"What about your parents? What does your father do for a living?" Fuck. Of course this is the question he asks.

"My adoptive father is a doctor in Alaska," Alice said and I took a long gulp of the wine. Here we go… After a beat of silence, she continued, "I mean, he's moved around quite a bit, but they just settled in—"

"Did you say adoptive—" Maria began.

The recognition on Alice's face was unmistakable. She said the wrong thing. There was no going back. Here was what I had been warning her about from the beginning.

"Where are you biological parents?" mom asked, sounding more accusing than sympathetic.

"They passed away when I was very young," Alice tried to back-pedal.

"I am very sorry, dear," Aunt Maggie said from the end of the table. Alice looked over to thank her, but didn't exactly have the chance.

Maria casually knocked her glass of wine over and it fell toward Alice, pouring down the front of her dress and pooling in her lap, staining her dress. Alice stood up quickly, knocking the chair down in the process. That tripped the waiter behind her, who dropped the next course, sending mashed potatoes splattering on the hardwood floors and the roast sliding down the hall.

Alice froze, looking around the table. My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach and there was a lump in my throat the size of the universe.

"I'm sorry," Alice choked back any bit of emotion as she fled the room. Rosalie immediately got up and followed her out of the room. I moved to get up as well, but—

"Jasper, sit down," my jackass of a fucking father ordered and I did.

I picked up my napkin from my lap and set it on the table. I crossed my arms and leaned back, staring at him. _Go ahead, fucker, lay it on me. _

"Is this a joke?"

"Is what a joke, daddy?" I asked, batting my eyelashes.

"You bring a girl home to meet your family—" mom began, but my father cut her off.

"Did you pick some girl up in a bar and bring her here to shock us?"

"Oh, for the love of—" I trailed off.

"She doesn't have a successful job, any stable home, or parents," so because she's an orphan you don't like her or is it because she's not Maria Moreno?

"You met her in a bar, for Christ's sakes!" He began to raise his voice and that was my cue to buck back… or not.

"She's not your type, Jasper," my mother added. I heard the front door slam and guessed that was Rosalie taking Alice out of the house.

Since when are you my fucking mother and know my type? I've never had a type except one-night stands throughout college and the past year since Maria cheated on my sorry sold-out ass. Once again, I kept my mouth shut.

"You've dated more successful young women, Jasper, and that's what you need in your life; someone to stand by you and someone who knows when to take a step back from their career to—"

"Sorry to interrupt, but I'm going to go," I said, getting up from the table.

"Jasper, sit down now!"

"Merry Christmas. Happy Chanukah. Happy Kwanza. Happy Holidays. Happy New Year," I continued, pausing to finish off the glass of wine.

"We still have to discuss this," mom begged.

"Any other holidays I'm forgetting?"

"God damn it, Jasper," my father smashed his fist on the table, rattling all the china dishes on the table. "When will you grow up?"

I picked up my glass of wine and raised my glass. "I would like to make a toast," I said with a cheeky grin.

"Jasper, put the glass down," mom pleaded halfheartedly.

"Here's to my wonderful parents who have just humiliated the girl I love."

Did I just say _love_? Did I have too much to drink? Nah…

"Merry Fucking Christmas." I downed the glass and tossed it onto the table before walking out of the room.

I walked to the foyer, grabbing my coat from the closet and grabbed Alice's too. Slamming the front door I jogged down the steps of the porch and down the path to the garage.

I saw Alice sitting on the hood of the Mercedes and Rosalie leaning against it next to her. Rose was holding her hand and talking quietly. Alice was looking down in her lap, avoiding her gaze. She had kicked her heels off and they were haphazardly tossed on the pavement. They both looked up when they heard me approach and then Alice immediately looked back in her lap.

I hesitated, keeping my distance for a minute as Rosalie squeezed her hand and leaned off the hood of the car. She walked up to me first with sympathetic eyes—thought I'd ever see that.

"I convinced her not to get a cab home," Rosalie mumbled.

"Thank you." She smiled half-heartedly and made her way back up the path. I took a minute or so before I approached the car. I leaned down and grabbed her heels, dangling them on my two fingertips.

"You okay?"

She nodded. For the little that I've known Alice, she has never been silent.

"You want to go home?"

Again, she nodded. I reached out my hand and she took it to lean against me as she hopped off the hood of the car. She took her heels from my hand and walked barefoot. I opened the passenger door for her and shut it behind her.

When I got in the car and started the engine, she laughed bitterly. I looked over and she held up the bottle of champagne she had brought with her to make a good impression—though that was obviously hopeless.

Still, she didn't speak, so I just smirked and reversed out of the driveway.

The entire drive was silent. It was eating me alive and I struggled to think of something to say. In the beginning I apologized, but she just shook her head and gazed out the window. I couldn't tell if she was mad at me or just not in the mood to—whatever it was I let her work it out in her head, though I hated not knowing what was going on in there.

I pulled up in front of her apartment and she leaned forward to slip on her heels. She dug into her coat pocket to find her keys and hugged her coat over her chest, hiding the stain from the wine. She hesitated and sat there for a minute, looking out the window. Then she finally met my gaze and I could see her red puffy eyes. Fuck…

"Do you uh—do you want to come up and have a drink?" she held out the bottle of champagne and smiled weakly. I turned off the engine, getting out of the car and holding the door open the rest of the way, seeing as she still ignored my need to be a gentleman and opened it herself.

"You don't have to hold doors open for me," she said with a smile, taking two steps in her heels before taking them off and holding them instead. I took the champagne bottle from her.

I ignored her and after shutting the door to the car, I went and opened the front door of the apartment building as well. So long as she was talking, I'm good. We took the elevator to soothe her aching feet—sarcasm; we were both too lazy.

She opened the door to the apartment she shared with Bella, walking inside and holding the door open for me with an adorable smile.

"I'm just going to change out of this," she motioned to the huge stain and curtsied before leaving the room.

I wandered into the kitchenette. I remember Bella having me put some champagne glasses on top of the cabinet, not realizing that it was too high for her to reach without standing on the countertop. So I reached up and grabbed two glasses.

The apartment seemed different from the last time I was in it… I could see the quirky things Alice added, probably because she was sickened by the lack of decorations. There was a cat clock on the wall; fake dead flowers pinned up on the wall with lace binding the bouquet. The couch was reupholstered? Okay, that might not have been Alice; I just haven't been here in a long ass time.

There was a knit blanket on the ottoman and a tray on top of that. I put the two glasses and bottle of champagne on the tray before continuing my snoop.

There were a few paintings on the wall; one caught my eye. It was a watercolor landscape of Canon Beach, the waves crashing up against the huge rocks. When I looked further, a scrawled signature spelt out "A. Cullen" in graceful script, where the 'A' and 'C' intertwined.

"Oh good, you got the glasses," she said from behind me.

"You paint?" I asked, turning around and I wish I hadn't—in a good way, of course; always in a good way.

She was dressed in tight black yoga pants with an oversized cream-colors sweatshirt and adorable fuzzy lamb slippers. Her hair was tousled in a perfect and precise mess. She blushed and walked over to the painting I was standing in front of, while apologizing for her outfit.

"Hope you don't mind I'm in pajamas," she giggled and crossed her arms, her hands barely making it through the sleeves as she bit her lip, then put her nail in between her teeth critically. "I dabble in everything. For this one I just had free time and was at the beach, so I went to some small art shop in the town and got some watercolors. The man working there taught me a few pointers."

As I stared at the painting, getting lost in the perfectly melted colors on the canvas, I felt her tug at my coat. I blinked out of my reverie and took off my coat; she hung it on the coat rack at the door.

"Do you know how to pop the cork off that thing?" she asked with a giggle. "I always manage to get some of the cork in the bottle."

Before she could say anymore, a loud pop echoed in the room and she slid over, eagerly holding out a glass to collect the foam that spilled over.

"Madam," I bowed, pouring her a glass.

"Thank you, kind sir," she curtsied as she swung back the small glass.

"You are quite welcome." I poured myself a glass and downed it in one gulp. We both sat on the couch, pouring each other glasses. About ten minutes into this routine, Alice just grabbed the bottle and took a long chug.

When she finally separated herself from the bottle, she hiccupped and giggled. "What else we got?" she asked, going into the kitchen and rummaging through cabinets and the refrigerator.

Part of it worried me that she wanted to drink so much after a night with my parents, but fuck it! The feeling is mutual and I'm here with her. I'm not fucking psychologist; I'm not going to ask her to talk about her feelings.

I picked up the bottle of champagne and pouted, turning it over. Goddamn, she finished the bottle.

"Ah-ha!" she cheered from the next room. She walked back into the room, slipping and sliding with her slippers, and hopped back on the couch. She held out a bottle Jack Daniels and I drooled.

Doe eyes fucking liked whiskey.

She put down a bottle of Jack Daniels, then a bottle of Smirnoff, and finally a bottle of Baileys. I raised my eyebrow at the last one and she hiccupped again. She was already tipsy. Well doe eyes was fucking tiny, so I guess it didn't take much to get her hammered.

"For dessert," she explained.

"Ah."

"A toast!" she held up both the Jack Daniels and the Smirnoff. I grabbed the Smirnoff smartly; don't want her to get too bad.

I held up my bottle and smirked. "To what?"

"To—uh, to—ah, shit, I had something and I forgot," she giggled.

I smirked and pursed my lips trying to think of something to toast.

"… I got nothing," she pouted.

"Screw it, take the drink!"

**"So here's to all the ties we've tied and those we've tied too tight we'll set aside. Tonight we toast our enemies and friends and strangers and families. Tonight we drink to gratitude." **-The Stevedores

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**A/N: **The end was kind of rushed, but I got excited. I actually know how I'm continuing this story (for once).

QUESTIONS FOR THE REVIEWS: How do you think this will pan out? Will Alice and Jasper ever fucking kiss? How drunk will they get? You hoping for a drunken sex fest? Naughty, readers!

Thanks for all the support. You are all amazing.

OH! I almost forgot, sunray16 made me a banner for this story! It's on my author page! Check it out and send her some love!

Thank you again and as always, I'd love to read your feedback!


	9. Better Man

**A/N: **Sorry it's not as long as some of the other chapters, like the previous one. Enjoy.

**Disclaimer: **The song mentioned is _Better Man _by Spencer Bell. The plot belongs to me. The characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.

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**Better Man**

Pounding headache, frost bitten toes—ugh, where's the damn blanket? It's fucking cold as hell; what's up with this damn heat? Did the thermostat break again? Fuck…

I nuzzled closer to the nice smelling pillow and lazily forgot about the blankets. I'd warm up later; just try to keep sleeping. One thousand. Nine hundred ninety nine, nine hundred ninety eight, nine hundred ninety seven…

The pillow stirred and my eyes shot open.

Holy fuck. I'm in doe eyes' bed.

Uh—uh—what happened last night? Okay, focus. Parents' party. That was a disaster. Skip that. We came back to her place. Bottle of champagne, bottle of Jack Daniels, bottle of—fast-forward. We toasted, we drank, she got hammered, and I—fuck, I get honest when I'm drunk, what'd I say?

I swallowed back the bitter fuzzy taste in my mouth from all of the shit we drank last night. My arm was through the front pouch of her sweatshirt, which had ridden up a bit through the night. I slowly slipped my arm out, not wanting to wake her. She mumbled something incoherent and flopped over so she was lying on her stomach as I lay on my back. Okay, let's figure this shit out.

Clothes are on, so no sexy times; that's good, I guess… I mean, good cause I don't remember it and if we had done—you got it.

Focus. I remember… I remember I wasn't as drunk as her, but by three in the morning, she began to get emotional, hence the mascara stains on her cheeks this morning. Some of it had to deal with her biological parents, some of it had to deal with not wanting to be alone, hence my staying the night in her bed. I wondered if she remembered all she said—or all I did, cause I fucking didn't.

I remember talking on the couch, I remember telling her she was beautiful—the big ol' heavy "l" word was not used though. Not "lesbian", you perv: "love." Or maybe I did tell her I loved her? No, I told my parents… Fuck, now I was paranoid and the "l" word was popping up in every situation. Had I said it? Hadn't I?

I remember her sitting in my lap, leaning her back against my chest as she told me about her fairytale life goals: traveling to Paris, walking the streets at midnight, seeing the Eiffel Tower, meeting a Frenchman and eloping before he realized "what a dork" she was. I tickled her for that.

I remember she fell asleep in my lap and I sat there for a while listening to her breathe. I carried her to her bedroom and put her down on her bed. I remember knowing I wasn't sober enough to drive home, but as I walked out to the living room to take the couch, she grabbed my hand.

I remember her begging me to stay. I remember agreeing without hesitation. I remember holding her until she fell asleep again and I remember following suit, too exhausted to relish in her company.

Alice rolled over, her cheek resting on my chest and her arm fell across my abdomen. Her skin was so warm it practically burned a hole through the fabric of my shirt. I remembered putting my sweater somewhere in the living room…

I didn't move. Fuck, why would anyone move if you were this close to Alice? I didn't want to wake her, but I was too keyed up to pretend to fall back asleep. My arm kind of just found its way around her waist, keeping her against my chest. Where else was it supposed to go?

Her hand grabbed a fistful of my shirt and I held my breath.

Alice mumbled something incoherent and adorable, her eyelids clenched shut and she whined. She bit the inside of her cheek and her eyes fluttered open. Her brow furrowed in confusion; she mumbled a bit more, looking at my shirt, then her hand…

But she didn't wake up. Ha. Nice.

A few lyrics popped into my head, accompanying that melody I had been toying around with the other night as I took advantage of my insomnia.

"Good morning, baby. I hate to be a bother. You know it's always hard to do, waking you from your slumber. The thing is that my feet are kind of cold, and it seems you've got all of the sheets and I would be so very much obliged, if you would help me warm my feet."

She mumbled some more and I put this muse on pause. I couldn't understand much of it, but she was concerned or pretty serious about whatever she was discussing with herself; so I decided to join the conversation.

"Really?" I asked. "I cannot believe she did that." I added a nice lisp, too. I needed to amuse myself somehow this morning for as long as I could. Who knows what the fuck was going to happen when she woke up? Enjoy it while you can.

She smiled and let go of my shirt to just rest her hand against my chest, right above my pounding heart. Okay, game's over.

"And I cannot begin to understand, why you're not waking up to a better man than me."

I tested out this new line for the chorus, humming quietly. Alice sighed contently and so I continued.

"You see my breath is kind of nasty from all the drinking that we did last night. And I can tell from here that yours is nasty, too, but I don't really mind."

She stilled as my humming continued. For a second I thought she was holding her breath.

"So if it doesn't turn you off too much, I'll give you a kiss. You know that it's true, that waking up to you, it only seems appropriate."

Her eyelids fluttered open, but I guessed she would fall back asleep. My humming stopped as she peeked her head up and met my gaze, immediately burying her face in my chest. I think I saw some horror in those doe eyes. Guess I'm not getting a fucking kiss.

"We didn't—you know… right?" she asked hurriedly.

"Nope," I replied, popping the 'p'.

Still, there was no relief. Her ears turned a nice shade of crimson as she hid her face in embarrassment.

"Good morning." I'll be the cheery one, though I wasn't a morning person. Hell, I'll be one today.

"G'morning," her voice was muffled against my shoulder.

"How's the hangover?" I asked, not even reacting to my pounding headache anymore. I think it's the new lyrics.

She grumbled a miserable reply and I smirked. I was giddy. Fuck it, this was amazing.

Despite Alice being mortified, she still didn't move from being somewhat on top of me. But she was upset and I guessed I should give her a few minutes to collect herself, right? That's a good thing to do.

So I shut my eyes, thinking I could find those lyrics again, fine-tune the melody a bit and possibly pretend to sleep. Sleeping's my forte.

But she grew brave when she noticed my eyes weren't on her anymore and she lifted her head.

She snorted. "You're awake, doofus," she said with a breathy, tired giggle.

I opened my eyes to see her tongue stuck out at me. God she was gorgeous.

"Share some blankets, _doofus_," I quipped.

She obliged, kicking some blankets toward me. I took my arm from her pocket, immediately missing the contact, but that was short-lived when my feet frantically fought for warmth and brushed against hers.

"Fuck, your toes are cold," she whined.

"Your fault," I retorted. "Blanket hog." I grabbed a fistful of blankets and pulled them toward me.

She just whined in gibberish and burying her face back in my chest. "What were you humming?" she asked, her voice muffled.

"New song," I replied biting back a dorky grin.

"Hmm," was her only answer. Wait a fucking second—

Was it a dream or did I really remember telling Alice that she was my new muse? Ah—fuck.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, still not opening her eyes.

"For what?" I asked. I should be the one apologizing for bringing her somewhere that made her want to get totally trashed.

"Asking if we—not that I didn't—or wouldn't want to—" Whoa, what?

"Well, I'm flattered, but the clothes are still on," I quipped and her cheeks reddened now. Her eyelids fluttered as if she was fighting to keep them closed.

"And unloading on you," she added, biting her lower lip. "What exactly did I say toward the end?"

I smirked, looking back myself, now happy I was the one who remembered what she said and feeling relieved that it seemed she didn't remember much of anything let alone any embarrassing thing that I may've said.

"Besides begging me to stay?" she moaned in humiliation so I tried to make her feel better. "Because it's irresponsible to drink and drive and—"

"You're full of shit," she grumbled and I smirked.

"Nothing embarrassing," I amended.

She finally peeked out her head and studied my face for any deception. I just stared back with a lazy smile. Her eyes narrowed and she sighed, deciding that she was going to believe me this time.

"Anything I say that was embarrassing or that you may use against me at some time in my life?" I asked, trying to lighten the mood. I was pretty confident that she wouldn't remember much.

I was wrong.

"You're very poetic when you're drunk," she noted with a distant smile. My face fell and she giggled. "Thank you."

"What exactly did I—" I asked frantically.

"Just—" she interrupted quickly. "Thank you," she said with a smile.

Nice how I remember what she said and she remembers what I said, but we don't remember what we said to each other.

She shifted so she was no longer leaning against me—which made me feel fucking empty—and she propped her head up on her elbow, lying on her side. She stared at me for a bit, humming quietly to herself. We studied each other's faces, although I wasn't sure if she was really looking at me or remembering the sappy shit I must have blurted out last night and wondering if I'd ever say them sober.

I had to have won some points for being a drunken mess—though more sober than she—without taking advantage of her. Right? The way we were acting this morning, it was like we both confessed the world to each other. We were comfortable… That was it: comfortable.

Wait—was she humming _Billy Jean_?

"Why're you staring at me?" she asked cautiously; she stopped humming.

"Why are you staring at _me_?" I replied.

We were at a standoff and the corner of her lips twitched up to smile. That same song lyric immediately popped into my head.

"I cannot begin to understand why you're not waking up to a better man than me."

Her hand reached out to press on the concentrated wrinkles on my forehead. She realized what she was doing and after a faltered confident expression, she moved her hand away.

I just continued to study her face and hum. She bit the inside of her cheek to hold back a smile as she closed her eyes again.

"I need aspirin," she mumbled absently.

"Mm," was my reply; whatever that means.

She was quiet for a minute, just listening to my humming, but I couldn't quite get it beside the last verse I had. I guess that's all I got. I desperately needed a guitar to pluck out this musical mess logically.

"Your breath stinks," she complained sweetly. Her hand dropped from holding her head up. Her arm lay against the pillow.

"You stink," I replied childishly. She smirked. Ha.

"Got any lyrics to that melody?" she asked.

"No," I lied, too quickly. She smiled wider than ever.

Fuck, I _did _tell her she was my new muse.

"Aw, no sharing?" she pouted.

"Nope." I guess she realized she wouldn't get anywhere with me, so she pursed her lips and decided to go a different route.

"Is it about me?" she asked bravely. My silence answered her question. She smiled and—when did her face get so close to mine?

I was panicking like a prepubescent boy before his first kiss with the cheerleader in a closet barred with kids who claimed we had to do something for "seven minutes in heaven" when we were fucking seven and didn't even know that Santa didn't exist let alone where babies came from. Phew, that was a long analogy and that didn't happen to me… that was uh—my friend…

She leaned over me, her nose nuzzled against mine, our eyes closed and my arm wound around her waist, pressing her against my side. Now I have to somehow coherently explain our first kiss. Here goes.

It was quiet, testing—We both had such a fucking buildup to this moment that the first kiss was lame and self-conscious. She was confident as all hell and then as soon as our lips parted, she smiled and blushed, looking down. I lifted her chin with my fingertips and we tried again.

Our lips met again and—as sappy romantic novely of me to say—there was more passion. As we broke apart, she huffed out a shaky breath and smiled, relieved that the first kiss was over or that the pressure was done or that maybe she felt something? I didn't see any fireworks, but that butterfly warehouse in the pit of my stomach was wreaking havoc.

I tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She met my gaze and we shared an unspoken conversation before she initiated the next kiss.

Her teeth grazed my lower lip and then it turned a bit—hmm, how shall I put it poetically—rough. All right, that wasn't poetic.

My fingers ran through her hair, tugging gently. Our lips parted and we confidently explored the new territory. We were both so fucking stubborn that we probably looking like groping animals, but fuck it.

Her leg hitched over my hip so she was straddling me. Ah, if I could have died in that moment I would've been a happy, happy dead man.

I guess the only way I can describe what we were doing that would sum it up in the simplest and yet possibly sickening way—we sucked face.

My hands rested on her hips as her sweatshirt rode up a bit. She gasped as my ice cold calloused hands met her scolding hot skin. Her fault. Blanket hog.

Her nose wrinkled and she pulled back with a giggle. Wait—what happened?

Her fingertips rubbed against the scruffy unshaven mess on my face and smirked. "It ticked," she confessed.

I groaned, looking up at her with a smirk. Then there was a beat... before I pinned her to the mattress and began tickling her. Doe eyes was a ticklish fiend; if you blew in her ear she was a giggly mess.

"St—stop it!" she cried out, squealing and fighting with loose limbs to push and swat my hands away.

I guess we were too preoccupied from our couple kisses to hear the front door open and close, Bella call Alice's name, and Edward drop the suitcases pretty noisily in the living room. I'm sure they assumed Alice wasn't home until they heard her giggling wildly in which case they came to the door.

"Alice?" Bella called again, knocking cautiously. She peered in, Edward behind her. The door swung open and slammed against the wall when Bella noticed why Alice was giggling.

"Jasper?"

I spun around, my hands up in fake surrender as I moved away from Alice. In my moment of weakness, Alice sat up and smacked me on the back of the head with a pillow.

"Hey! You're home early!" Alice grinned innocently at Bella.

Edward's eyes narrowed as he looked for an explanation from me. Clothes are on, Eddie. Relax.

"No, we're home late," Edward replied, looking at the two of us like we had three heads each. Heh, oh giddy loveness. "We were supposed to come in last night," he continued.

"Oh," Alice's eyebrow furrowed. "So that means it's Christmas Day." I smirked.

"Merry Christmas," I said to the room.

"Merry Christmas," Alice echoed. "Where's the Christmas Coffee?"

"I second that," I piped up.

"Edward, go make coffee," Bella waved a hand, still staring at us. Edward hesitated, confused as always, and then left the room to obey the-one-who-carries-the-whip.

I feel like Rosalie would have this excited reaction, too. Give Bella a countdown cause she's gunna explode in about five… four… three… two…

"Are you two—"

"Hungover? A little," Alice replied with a sigh. I choked back a laugh.

"Together? Dating? An item? A thing? What's the deal?" Whew, Bella exploding over some new dirt. Geez.

I looked at Alice and she looked at me, her doe eyes nervous.

"Are we?" she asked.

"Think so," I replied with a casual nod. She bit back a grin, her cheeks turning bright red as we both looked back at Bella.

"Yep," we said in unison.

Bella hopped on the bed and faced Alice, but Alice was already moving on. "You didn't bring the blue sweater like I told you."

I laughed and got out of the bed, letting them talk as I wandered out into the kitchen. I liked this new giddy lovesick whipped air that I was in. I always made fun of Edward about it, but I kind of get it now. Maybe I should apolo—

Oh my fucker, I smell coffee.

"So you and Alice—" Edward trailed off. I nodded, going into the cabinet for a mug with paw prints all over it. Bella and thrift shops…

"Hey, how did Seattle go?" I switched topics. No awkwardness today.

"Uh, g—good," he replied and I shot him a look, sitting up on the countertop.

"What's with the stutter?" I was skeptical.

"We're um—engaged." Just as Edward finished the last syllable I heard Alice explode in the next room.

"WHAT? OH MY GOD, BELLA!"

"Congrats," I answered sanely while Alice had an excitement seizure in the next room.

"Thanks." Man, I love dudes. Everything's so chill.

The coffee pot beeped and I poured myself a cup.

"How'd the party go last night?" Edward continued with some small talk. I shot him a forced, ugly grin.

"Don't ruin Christmas, Scrooge," I spat.

"That good, huh?"

"Better," I replied, sarcasm seeping from my fucking pores. "Where's the aspirin in this joint?" Edward pointed to the cabinet behind me. I hopped off the countertop and dug through the cabinet, grabbing a couple and swigging them back before taking two more out.

Edward followed me as I brought them to Alice. She popped them in her mouth and took my coffee cup, taking a sip from the other side. She choked and her face scrunched up.

"Ick, I forgot you're bitter," she whined. I swatted a pillow at the back of her head, taking the mug back.

"Congrats, Bella," I held up the mug in a sort of toast before taking a long chug.

"Thanks," she said, finding Edward's hand and gripping it tightly. She was dazed for a second and Alice and I just watched the happy couple. I'm telling you, something's wrong with me because I would be vomiting if it was any other day but today. Was it Christmas that made me immune to sappy nausea or was it Alice?

"We should have a drink to celebrate!" Bella piped up, snapping out of her lovey dovey staring contest with Edwardo.

My face dropped. So did Alice's.

"Uh, but it's so early in the morning," I tried. Alice nodded and Edward immediately looked over at us, suspicious. Bella didn't get it.

"It's two in the afternoon," Bella shook her head. "You guys slept in. Plus, it's Christmas! There's a bottle of champagne in the cabinet above the sink."

Bella got up from the bed and Alice's eyes widened in horror. "I think that's yours, Alice, but you wouldn't mind, would you?"

"I brought that to Jasper's parents' house," Alice jumped up and we followed Bella into the kitchen. "I'm sorry, Bella."

"Well, we could always try something a little stronger, right?" Bella was flexible today. She climbed up on the countertop and Edward went to stand behind her to spot her, though he was looking guarded and skeptical at Alice and I.

Alice looked over at me, nudging me. "What do we do?" she mouthed.

"What do _you _do?" I replied.

We childishly handed off the blame to one another, though who fucking cares? We're both over twenty-one. We had a rough night and needed a few bottles of something to calm down, now we're trying to cover it up like we threw a party when our parents were on vacation and we were lucky enough that the cops were told the wrong address and didn't come and break it up, but now our parents are looking for the booze and—once again, this is something that happened to my friend… not me.

Bella gasped and the three of us looked up frantically. She clumsily fumbled off the countertop with Edward's help and went over to the garbage can. She held up the empty bottle of Vodka and the unfortunate-looking empty bottle of Jack Daniels. I sighed. Pity; empty whiskey bottles always made me upset.

Alice hung onto my arm and stared up at me dreamily, her cheek resting against me. "You cleaned up, too?" she smiled thankfully. "Aw, Jazz!"

That nickname—ah, fuck it. I felt like skipping down the street chanting, "Jazz is with doe eyes, nah nah nah nah nah nah," and sticking my tongue out at anyone who laughs.

* * *

**A/N: **I didn't proofread this. It's 2:40AM over here and I got too excited and giddy like Jasper that I just left whatever mistakes I had. I'll read it again in the morning and if there are too many then I'll edit and re-upload, but anyway, my apologies!

Now what do you think will happen? Happy ending or not? I know you all want one, obviously.

How'd you like their first kiss(es)? How are you feeling about Jasper and Alice finally together?

Leave your lovely feedback in the reviews. As always, thanks for reading! :)


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